The Mugumo Tree Has Fallen


A Mugumo treee has fallen in Nyeri, with only weeks to go to Kenya’s Presidential elections, and “experts” are agreed that it portends change of direction (an ituita, excuse my spelling). Some say it would be a change of the Presidency from Old to Young; others say it’d be a change from East to West (Kenya). Among my people, it is as ominous as Arum Tidi, the bad bird, visiting the land, spooking sick elders, making them choke amid the soupy meals. Believe what you may, but Kenya’s election will urser in changes, with a new Majimbo constitution(we’re back to KADU’s 1963). We all know that there will be change by mid year, even without the Migumo tree splitting and coughing up a snake! So fellow Kenyans, don’t chew your spleen and liver over this event. The choice is in your hands. Vote wisely, vote in peace!

This photo comes from The East African Standard, Feb 5, 2013

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NEVER AGAIN, EVER


Fellow Kenyan,
Didn’t we all sing
Change is in the air
As the wise ones
Stirred the magic pot:
Divining, praying and prophesying in search
of the way forward?

Fellow Kenyan,
We all sang
And yearned for change,
The third liberation
Appeared to have been on course:
We hoped it would be
The liberation from tribalism;
We hoped it would be
The liberation from corruption;
We hoped it would be
The liberation from sycophancy;
We hoped it would be
The liberation from the politics
Of kickbacks and rewards.

Fellow Kenyan,
All that would not be,
Even as the people had willed
Change at the ballot-box
Because an evil cabal of oligoks
Would subvert the people’s will,
Yet again;
And turn you against me,
And I against you,
And wife against husband,
And doctor against patient,
And turn our ballots
Into weapons of mutual death.

Fellow Kenyan,
Wake up, my brother
Wake up, my sister
Do not be cheated into bearing
Arms ONE AGAINST ANOTHER.

Fellow Kenyan,
Wake up, my brother;
Wake up, my sister
Never again ever
Shall we allow ourselves
To be played ONE AGAINST ANOTHER
By a manipulative, powerful
Cabal of evil elites.

Fellow Kenyan,
Wake up, my brother;
Wake up, my sister,
Lest we again become
Mere expendable pawns
In this war of a manipulative cabal
of voracious, evil-and-powerful elites.

Fellow Kenyan,
Wake up, my brother;
Wake up, my sister,
Never, never again should we
Allow our ballots to be turned
Into child-killing
weapons of death.

Fellow Kenyan,
Wake up my brother;
Wake up my sister,
There is only one mother
between us, and that mother
is our Dear Kenya;
And we must not allow her
To go to these manipulative
Crows of Nairobi.

Source: RATENG’ AND BRIDE (a poem)
by Joseph R. Alila, June

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002QD5TDM

The Thirteenth Widow (A Novel): The Story (Part 2)


                                                                                                                                                     

  You, Tom Okoth, accepted your new circumstance as a two-woman man, and you drowned the sounds of protests and disagreements from your friends and family in alcohol and more alcohol, and before you knew it, waking up in houses of widows, near and distant, became a habit; before you knew it, waking up in emergency wards with stitches across your face became normal; before you knew, it inheriting widows became a habit; before you knew it missing school became a habit. With a few years you lost your job: first as the headmaster of Soko Intermediate School, then as a teacher. Chief Omolo, your “friend,” chaired the school board that sacked you. At a local bar, he fed you some beer then hired a cyclist to drop you somewhere behind your home. What a fried you had in Chief Omolo! You left home the day after, never to return for another three years!

You never returned home the day after the sack, not because of your shame as the man and headmaster of a school who had drank away his job, but because you met a jewel bedecked, pearly mermaid in a Homa Bay hotel. Yes, you met the mythical mermaid, except yours was not a myth. She was a real woman with flesh and blood: She was intelligent, ingenious, and beautiful, and apparently wealthy. That was your mermaid. The morning after you met, you thought she was not real; she had suited you and dumped thousands of shillings on you. Her name was Luna Green. She hence gave you the name Mr. Tom Green. You were her new husband, and more. You had found yourself in Luna’s arms in a classy hotel in Homa Bay, where you’d landed the day after the sack, having filed an appeal against your dismissal by your school’s board at Ndhiwa KNUT (your local teaching trade union) office.  Well, you had filed your case, then visited Homa Bay to drown your shame—once and for all—in the may many bars in town. Then you met the mermaid known as Luna Green. By midmorning of the morrow, you (now Mr. Tom Green) were touring the waters of Lake Victoria in Luna’s personal motorized boat, The MV Lunar Rock.

A week later into the whirlwind of a tour, dazed, dazzled and believing that you’d met a mermaid out of the Lolwe, you wedded Luna or she married you (if you get my Luo sense of the verb ”marry”) in Ahero Town—some bishop presiding. A day later, you were in a dreamy mansion in Ngong—that famous land of the Maasai. You would lead a dreamy three-year life as the husband of Luna the Gemstone Dealer. By the end, that came, suddenly, you’d a degree in business administration.

Then your life with the gem dealer known as Mrs. Luna Green came to a screeching halt, when she disappeared while in advanced pregnancy with your child. Within a short order you watched and listened as Green Gems Inc crumbled. The mansion you called yours was put on sale by creditors of Green Gems Inc. Apparently still controlling events from her hideout, Luna, willed that you be paid 39000 shillings, and that you left home immediately. In no way were you to leave with any other clothes except the ones on your back.

Scared, you scampered off with your life after a brief enquiry with Nairobi Police let you know that there was no person in Kenya known as Luna Green or Tom Green. Even you didn’t exist. If you had suspected that Luna was a genie or mermaid, you’d no more reason to doubt. You’d be back to Korondo Village to your longsuffering wife and your children, never to use the name Tom Green again. In three years, you, Tom Okoth, had travelled to hell and heaven and back to another round in hell.

JR Alila’s: Rateng’ and Bride (Epic Poem)


In the epic poem, “RATENG’ AND BRIDE,” Joseph R Alila (Author of such novels as “Whisper to My Aching Heart” and Sunset on Polygamy”) pleads with the hero (Rateng’) to abandon a lifelong ambition of reigning in a killer, illusive Bride, and redeeming his honor and Ramogi people’s collective pride.  
Of Rateng’s illusive Bride-call her Power, Leadership or The Presidency-Alila reminds his hero of her corrupting, material allure and deadly charms. Like a gem, a Powerful Presidency corrupts everybody it touches, and its corrupting effects linger like the nauseating smell of a scared skunk. 
Employing rich imagery and proverbs, and never shy to go Luo vernacular with proverbs, in “RATENG’ AND BRIDE,” Alila has played his satirical hand, again, and demonstrated his knowledge of the political landscape of Kenya.

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Why are these Kenyan Ministers Acting Presidential?


A number of Kenyan Ministers and MPs (Members of the Alliance)executed a mini regional shuttle diplomacy into Uganda, the land of the late Idi Amin, and Tanzania. The delegation led by Mr. William Ruto appeared to be molded on a Moi political book, going by who was in it and who wasn’t: Coast, Western, RV, North Eastern, Eastern were well-represented. Mr. Kenyatta and Mr. Kalonzo must be wondering what is going on. Mr. Odinga appeared to have know what was afoot. Agwambo was in Ruto’s “political backyard” receiving redefectors as Ruto’s delegation dined in Uganda and then Tanzania, and he has been seen inside every known political beehive in Kenya “cutting the dog” (forgive my Luo spiritual sense) with previously declared foes, and even going into record books as the first Prime Ministerof Kenya to have visited a Nairobi comedy den, his whole family in tow. These exploits appear to have given his opponents sleepless nights. But would any Kenyan run for the Presidency with help from Tanzania and Uganda? Haven’t the latter land of Museveni entertained hegemonistic interest on Kenya’s fishing waters in Lake Victoria, where its militia and police pilliage Kenyan Fishermen at will against constant protests from Nairobi? Why would a sane Kenyan politican seek Mr. Museveni’s blessings to run for President? Or do the Kenyan political magicians think that this move would rattle Agwambo wuo Odinga? As I said before in this blog, fighting with Agwambo can be traumatic, leading his victims to behave like political novices. The reported Museveni’s pieces of counsel to the group to seek “to be self-reliant” and aim “to reconcile Kenyans” were to the point.

OR is this about Ocampo’s ICC politics? Did some of these Kenyan politicians, who were in the delegation, know who really was driving their political vehicle? 

 http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/InsidePage.php?id=2000037469&cid=4&ttl=Why Ruto is courting Museveni and Kikwete