Be Good

Mtaname! Why waste time trying to look good? Just be good. How you look means nothing if that's not what you are. Lies are hard to sustain. They peel off like wax when a little heat is applied. They are washed away like polish under hot water. Be good! Not for rewards, not for profit. Be good because you owe it to humanity, to people. Be good to that gogo who used to weed the road to and from school. Your first teacher who taught you to write your name for the first name. Remember her patience when she was holding your hand and helping you shape each letter. Did you ever think you were going to write a verse back then? And yet you made it! Be good! Remember the random guy who showed you the road when you were lost. You couldn't see further than your eyes. Map or compass, you had neither. You had no idea of where you were. The road to looked like the road from - just the same. As you were walking, you noticed nothing familiar. And he pooped up. He held your hand and wiped your blurred eyes. You saw pointers. Eureka!!! Be good. The neighbour who lent you his kid's bike. He'd let his children sacrifice for you what he would have sacrificed for them. A piece of a cake. A couple of sweets. A chocolate bar. Bicycle riding time. A soccer ball. A tennis racket. A baseball bat. He would tell them to share as a precondition for getting more. Be good! At the vegetable market, the seller would give you more than the value of your money. She wasn't doing it for profit but for humanity. She was playing her part in ensuring vegetables are never in short supply. She smiled all the time even when no one visited her stall. So be good too and be a good reader. Be you not him or her. Remember peas in the same pod are not always the same. One is darker, the other is lighter. One is fertile, the other is sterile. One has been burrowed by the weevil whilst the other is still sealed. One has nothing inside whilst the other is full. Pray, Mungu Nisaidie! She taught me right

Heal The Land

Mtaname! No matter how beautiful a roof is, as long as it's not anchored by a strong foundation it shall not stand the test of time. It shall not last the distance for it is the foundation that anchors the structure. One day we marvelled at neat and trendy buildings, the next we collected rubble and rubbish for disposal. Broken ceilings. Smashed tiles. Shattered glasses. Fragmented frames and trusses... We picked it all for dumping. In a flash, it's all flushed away. The foundation failed and all crumpled. Designers, architects, engineers all watched in tears as their sweat is giving in to the test - answering to the call of calamity. My Mother Told Me... I haven't seen it all but what I have seen, I make you see it. What I have heard, I pass it on. You cannot stand on nothing. Not even the world's strongest man can do that. My Mother Told Me... I have seen ponds glittering and shining. Water and life, they had it al. The tadpoles flipped without pause. Fish swam and swallowed. Bugs and beetles scurried for cover. From a vantage point, kingfisher observed every movement with keen interest. Under the smiling sun, riverine plants shone as they cast their roots deep in the pond - supping gallons out. But I saw the water subsiding and depleting as no one was recharging that which was being lost. The clear and sparkling precious liquid was running out as the weather was changing. The smiling plants frowned and withered. The tadpole paused in the mud. The fish blinked and floated lifelessly. The kingfisher took off with nothing on its beak. Those who had gathered to witness documented it all and left. Nothing survives in isolation. My Mother Told Me... I have seen fireflies taking turns to produce a beautiful pattern at night. But I have seen candleholders fighting to extinguish each other's candles. Yes, they all triumphed in walking in darkness - bumping into each and colliding with walls. Their journey to Norway ended nowhere. I have heard insects producing a beautiful rhythm of chirping sounds. But I have heard humans fighting to drown each other's voices. They succeeded in quietening each other. In the end, I heard the sounds of silence. Listen to silence as it roams up and down blowing its sonorous and deafening trumpet. Silence that divides and polarise. Silence that creates hatred and suspicion. Silence that compartmentalised and isolated. Him and her lost trust. Him and them broke up. Them and her walk in silence, suspecting each other. His calls are terminated without answer. Her desperate texts are trashed before being opened. The dusty road to their little village is forbidden. The mysterious and beautiful misty mountains that hedged their hamlet are disdained and ignored. When they pitch to market the fruits of their hard labour, they are ridiculed and insulted in silence. They cry silently wondering. Do they know? Will they ever know? What you partake graciously might be distasted by another. My Mother Told Me... Mend the torn fabric, we have nothing else to put on. Cleanse the bittered water, we have no other well to drink from. Don't let your brother drink the poisoned chalice, you have no other brother to look up to. Quell the tension and annul the malice. She was right.