CONVERSATIONS WITH MWANANCHI

 

CONVERSATIONS WITH MWANANCHI

Dare not demand for more mwananchi

Have you not embraced your place by now?

Desire no more mwananchi

Don’t you ever sate?

Today is my turn

And the future belongs to the youth.

 

Yes, I acquired another wife

Just like you and your ilk should

Mwananchi it’s not for carnal pleasure

That I got married.

The future- of your kind, the future of your own

The future of your children, the future lying in numbers and votes,

Us against them,

A battle of votes borne of children,

Marry, let’s marry mwananchi._s

 

Mwananchi, why does my fuel guzzler gall you?

Does a big car, for a big mheshimiwa;

A big car for a big office irk you?

Mwananchi, you sent me to a big office

To wrestle with big men-

And bring home our share of the national cake.

So you see-

I need a big car, for the big job.

The job you assigned me mwananchi.

 

Mwananchi I have heard the grapevine

Your whining over my fat salary has reached me

Mwananchi, yet you and yours live on my salary;

 ‘mheshimiwa, my daughters school fees…,’

 

‘mheshimiwa, my son’s boda boda…,’

‘mheshimiwa, my mother’s burial…’

‘mheshimiwa this, mheshimiwa that…

Do I mint money mwananchi?

The fat salary you detest, funds your

Mheshimiwa this and mheshiwa that whining.

 

Mwananchi, why do you complain of development?

Did I not roof your local church?

When you go for prayers and miracles next, mwanachi

The roof, look at the roof, mabati emblazoned with my name

A true testament of my commitment to your God.

Pass by your local primary school,

A stately gate- an education on my commitment.

Go to your local market;  trade in your ignorance.

A brand new boda boda shed.

What more, what more mwananchi?

 

Now you see,

I know what befits you,

Be a sport and let me be,

I will fight for our community,

They have eaten far too long,

It’s our time to eat.

I will wrestle for us to get big cars,

Wrestle for more security,

Mwananchi, I am your person.

 

S. K. KYENZE  25/09/2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

BROKEN VOWS…

                BROKEN VOWS…..18+

A

s he held her in his arms that October evening, he knew that she was the woman he would never have. He had been brought up to believe that a man possesses a woman. Deep down, he knew it was a fleeting moment but a welcome break from the monotony of making love to his ‘frigid’ wife.

Kivuva was and still is a man of few words. He had pictured marital life as a bed of perpetual bliss. She was good at kissing, hugging, and dancing. Never had he in his wildest dreams thought that he would have a ‘cold marriage.’ She was in his mind, Lot’s wife. He, of the biblical Sodom and Gomorrah. Simply a pillar of salt. He was the chief pastor in his local church.

 

Under the pressure of his innumerable aunts, he married the perfect church girl. She was and still is a breathtaking beauty of impeccable morals. Many are the days he slept hugging his treasured bible asking the almighty to prove him right. He had always had her in his dreams; soft-spoken, radiant smile, and that mellow voice. She was most definitely the church women guild’s choice for their pastor. He was proud to ‘score’ her

 

Kivuva was and still is a senior pastor in the church. He preaches heaven in its total bliss as well as castigating evil in one breath. He preaches perpetual happiness as well as hell and brimstone. Kivuva, so they say, speaks to ‘god’ in his slumber. He is a man of God. The chosen one, he who sees the unseen, does the undone and speaks to ‘God.’

 

As he held her in his arms-Maria the church usher- he felt different.  We could say he was lost, but Kivuva was at peace. He felt her body yield to him. He felt her invite him. She was warm and cuddly as they come. Kivuva thought of the cold nights in his cold, robotic, mechanical wife’s arms. He was in heaven-cloud nine. Maria yielded to him and surrendered her all as he blessed her in this evil communion. Her full bosom pressed against his face in total submission. This is the moment a preacher asks for a handkerchief. This divine satanic embrace ignited a fire in him.

Maria ignited in him a fire of loathing, despise, and hatred towards his cold wife. She took him whole, rode with him to cloud nine.  This moment as evil as it was, he cared not of Maria’s husband. She was his goddess and he, her god. They soared to places unbeknown to mortals. For he was a ‘man of god’-Kivuva, our pastor.

Her rough hands, calloused by years of hard work, ploughed along his gospel hard-panned back. He felt the joys of heaven on earth. He was a free man, albeit temporarily. He let go as Maria embraced, charmed, enchanted, and encircled him. She worshipped his very feet. The momentum was spontaneous; both lost in life’s heartbreaks. The heat mounted and spiraled into an unquenchable, wanting a blaze not even hell could parallel. Flash floods- the river broke its banks.

As they fought to regain their breath, memories of betrayal haunted them. Was it worth it? Should it have happened? The ultimate joy and fulfillment metamorphosed into a whirl of regrets! The broken vows haunted them. Was it worth it? Kivuva thinks of the inferno in hell. Maria waddles in a quagmire of confusion. They immediately hate each other, turn their heads, lock their gazes, kiss and hate each other in different ways!

 

 

VIPER'S EMBRACE --- EDITED

VIPER'S EMBRACE

Smile bright as summer daylight
voice booming as canon
ego imposing as a mountain
he swung up the podium
grabbed the microphone and started courting.


Torrents of venomous political rhetoric
spewed from his mouth

words, weighty, sweet and empty
 hissed through his shiny fangs
 sweet music to the crowd's ears
Gullible trusting souls
 word after word imbibed
 quenching their thirst with venom
 slowly sating their hunger
 on drops of emptiness.
 Empty shells.

The frenzied crowd cheered
 clinging onto every morsel of empty hope
 empty slices of souls victuals
 promises of a new awakening
 a new crop from last harvests rotten seeds!


Suspense surged,  tension built
 he sunk fangs in and injected drop after drop
 injustices against the tribe,
 assaults on their men at the top,                                                                                                                                                                  us versus them… venom, venom, venom.
 Tipping point.







The battle cry was heard,                                                                                                                The frenzied crowd marched
 war chants, war drums
 civilian martyrs; foot soldiers
 marched along the streets
 razing everything in their wake
 burning a nation
 razing hopes
 for a viper's embrace
was a death bite- vials of venom.