Tuesday, February 24, 2009

JIBU KWAKO

JIBU KWAKO

Jibu kwako
mimi sina
mpaka unipe
swali unalouliza
funga macho
alafu fikiria
Labda maono
yatakutafsiria

James Adolwa, 2004

MISUNDERSTOOD

What I said is not what I meant
and the response I got
was not to the questions I raised
the conclusion you made
was not based on the facts I gave
you misunderstood all my lies again

James Adolwa 17/06/2007


YOU


Anything and anyone you cannot control you criticize

Anyone who offers to lend a hand you villanize

And anyone who doesnt want to be or think as you do you demonize

James Adolwa 2004






"The meaning of communication is the response we get"

Monday, February 23, 2009

Which heaven is in the soil?

Was watching KTN news feature "The Inside Story", and heard just about the saddest thing I have heard in a long time.

The story is of a mother whose husband had been part of the Peace Keeping Mission in Sierra Leone. After the husband came back home he got sick with strange symptoms and died shortly after.

After her husband was burried her son asked her "Mum where has dad gone?" she answered by saying that dad has gone to heaven. Her son asked, "But mum, which heaven is in the soil?"

Saturday, February 21, 2009

THE HOUSE WITH THE RED ROOF

I attended a writing workshop today. I havn't been in such a class for a really long time but I was amazed at what the writers (I really dont consider myself one) churned out in just twenty minutes. I didn't read my story in the workshop partly because I didn't want to share my amateurish work with those professionals but I will share it with you because here there is no pressure...The task was " Write a short story entitled " THE HOUSE WITH THE RED ROOF" I didnt complete the story because all I came up with is three paragraphs and here they are:



THE HOUSE WITH THE RED ROOF

There weren't many people in the village. There weren't many houses. But there was one that stood out conspicuously half way up a hill surrounded by many trees. It really was an oddity in these parts given that the whole area surrounding this hill was parched savannah land.

As I drove my tour van I could see the tourists shift their attention towards this building or the little they could see of it through the trees. I could see them ask themselves questions in their minds. "Who might it be that lives there?", " Is that where we are going to pitch camp?", "I thought we were going to the farthest place from civilization...this is not supposed to be here!"

Often, I looked behind in anticipation. The house and its trees always made the visitors feel uneasy and from experience it never took long before someone asked the question ... "What is that house up there?" and I would pretend that I havn't seen it and ask, "Which one?" and he would finish, "That one up there...the house with the red roof." I am always filled with a great sense of satisfaction once one of them asks this because in that house on the hill is where my story begins............

Not very good right? but here is where the fun begins Your Task. I would like you to complete the story...How? Just post a comment with one word, one clause, one sentence or if you feel "sufficiently philanthropic" one paragraph that would make the story flow. Lets see where the story goes...try and be as humorous, creative, silly, out of this world but let the story flow..Who goes first? Type out something in the comments box below

PAZA SAUTI

PAZA SAUTI An East African sounding board on African people, places, politics, policy or persuasions. A place where we can disagree, but still talk. Click Here

Thursday, February 19, 2009

GOD BLESS THE MUSIC

Jan 26 2008 11:10 PM

Have you ever asked yourself what you are doing? Where are you going with yourself? Have you ever felt like you have forgotten who you are...and when you look in the mirror you are not so sure who is looking back....Have you ever sat down to think just what it is that you think about? You know....turned yourself inward and tried to ask yourself all the important questions:

-What’s up with you dummy?
-What in the world are you doing?
-Where are you going?
-What the *#*# were you thinking?
-Are you really making sense?

And all the friends and relatives of these questions

Well, got to that place on Friday. I was at home and thinking was just not working. The questions were not getting answered and they had called their neighbours and cousins for backup to bombard my mind.....My head was screaming like hell (though I have to confess I have never been there before)

TV was not helping neither was the newspaper. I tried some breathing exercises and that seemed to calm me a bit then a voice that was my own whispered an idea into my head (funny I was able to hear it)
“…Think of happier times... la la la la laaa…” I think there was a poor connection didn't quite hear the last part then it went mteja na simu ikakatika.

Well anything to get these questions out of my head so I tried thinking of happier times but I needed a vehicle and what better way to visit the days of your life than through music.....I remembered songs from as long ago as 1987…Kim Hill and Commissioned which took me back as long ago as standard 2. I definitely could remember some good times then…I brought myself to more recent times with more music that had stuck in my mind..India Arie, Hugh Masekela (strawberries)…some good old songs that kept swimming in my head.

You know, music acts as a marker to the days of our lives. It’s like a road map....not necessarily telling you where you are going but where you have come from and the places you have been. Its like landmarks saying “ James passed through here on his journeys.” and though you may feel that you've stopped, music tells you that you are moving on, you have made progress...you are going somewhere.

Every important event in your life can be marked by a song. Remember High School?... those days when a radio was illegal/contraband but you had one in school anyway and would hide it under your pillow....remember that? Remember listening to Capital Fm or Metro late nights when they were just new stations? Remember when the house master walked into your dorm-room on a surprise inspection? Remember when he woke you up and caught you red handed or should I say red-eared listening to your radio? Remember how it felt when it was confiscated? Remember the song that was playing as he pulled it from under the pillow? Remember the song? Yaaa those were the good old days......and some good old good days are coming up ahead. God Bless the music and God Bless Kenya. Give the TV a break and turn up the radio.

p.s You might have come across this post somewhere else, first posted in Jan 2008…by the same author

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

BITTERSWEET

If you dont have much to say dont force yourself to say it. Click Here if you would like to read the poem.

Bittersweet- posted in 2001

"The best way to see the sun is to look where it has shined" J.D.A. 2008




photo taken in Naromoru Kenya 2008

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

ILLUSION - IMMAGINATION, STILLNESS

This post doesn't make sense at all but am going to post it anyway.. These are some old pictures that I want to preserve...they are not the best pictures you ever saw but they are my pictures, drawings and a painting that I made in high school more than ten years ago so this is a bit of history for me... art is sometimes done for the pleasure of others...am posting these for myself, for my own enjoyment, filling up a few pieces in my own story...if anyone else enjoys them..well..enjoy them

ILLUSION - THE WORLD FROM A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE - 1998




IMMAGINATION - HAWKERS IN TROUBLE - 1995





STILLNESS - JUST SITTING THERE TRYING TO LOOK IMPORTANT - 1996




"..the past is illusion..the future is immagination...practice living in the present thats where reality resides.."

Monday, February 9, 2009

A LITTLE OF THE DARK SIDE

THE DARK SIDE…some of us have a problem writing when we are happy… all that ever gets written is the darkness… I try to say as much as I can with the fewest words… original Kenyan poetry but from the darker side of things…



SOME ENCOURAGEMENT

Nonsense!
That’s all you write.
It is all Nonsense!
Look at it!
It doesn’t make sense at all
You use so many words
To say so little
And the meaning is lost
In all the words you use
What should have meant one thing...
Now means everything!

It’s all useless!
Why put it down on paper?
Hopeless!
It doesn’t add value to society.
Your poetry is rubbish
Not worth a thing
Take all you’ve written and burn it
The world would be better without it.

James D. Adolwa
27/3/2002
84 Words, 20 Lines


MORE INSPIRATION

You must be seriously disturbed
if you write poetry
People go through these things everyday
yet you keep rolling then around in your head
Get a life
Get ahead
Take alcohol
Or pay for a doctors help
Don’t twist up the tubes
And mash up the stuff in your brain

James D. Adolwa
08/02/2009


MY LIFE MY WRITING

I may not speak much with my mouth
But I’ll talk heaps with my pen
and though you may take it away
My mind will still keep writing within itself
Till the scratching of the pen
on the paper of my mind
will make so much noise inside
that you can’t ignore the sound outside
Then you’ll gag me, and try to silence me
Cuff me to stop me from writing
Shackle me to stop me from moving
But inside you can’t take away
My heart, my life, my passion, my writing



AUTHENTICITY

It is not how you act
But how you are
Not what you have
But who you are
Not where you go
But where that’s home
Not who you meet
But who you’re with.

Not what is temporary
But what endures
Not the journey
But the road you’re on
Not what is imagined
But what is believed
That is what is important…
I think…..

James D. Adolwa
25/1/2002





LUNCH DATE

I talked to the devil
I talked to the devil
On the phone
last night
With a little demon at her side
Chattering all the time

I made a date with the devil
I made a lunch date
On the phone
With the devil last night

We planned to meet after church
Sunday afternoon at ten past one
To have lunch with the devil
Right after Sunday mass.

James D. Adolwa.
27/3/2002
67 words, 16 Lines



POOR

You carry your wealth with you.
Expensive suit, mobile phone, shiny shoes.
But at home, there are torn bed sheets.
In your paddock: no electricity.
On the town, Chief executive – C.E.O.
But at home, you scrape sufurias
With your roommates rats and roaches.
No wonder you never invite
Your many girlfriends home.
You’d rather meet them
In a mkahawa somewhere:
Anywhere but in that kibanda
Poor you!
Wealthy on the town
But a pauper in your house.

James D. Adolwa 29/1/2002



PETTY

The more you try to show
how sated you are
The hungrier you look
The more gadgets you acquire-
The more symbols you possess
Reality shows you have much less

The more you speak
The more you mislead
But your act is not believable though.
If only you were the audience and not the cast
You’d throw your act out fast.

It would be a great thing for you
To find a place that is real
Where you are happy with whom you are
Not what you wish to be.
What you are doing now
Is welcoming guests to
A mansion you haven’t yet built.
Ridiculous! Isn’t it?

James D. Adolwa
25/1/2002


AVERAGE

Just another average clod
Not above
Not below
Not shiny not dull
Just average
Like the colour of soap
Average
Defined by only what it is not
Not excellent
Not poor
Just average

13/12/2001 James D. Adolwa




FREE

You watch a bird fly
And think it’s free!
Damn prisoner of instinct
Mindless robot of nature
Where is the birds’ will?
Where is its resolve?
Where is its freedom?

The bird is bound by chains
Invisible chords of fate
Can a bird change its destiny?
Can a bird decide to alter its lifestyle?
Go against the rules?
Sing a different song
From the one it is programmed to know?

Hopeless slave to monotony.
Can he flap his wings differently?
Poor prisoner bird
When I look at you
I don’t admire you
I just feel sorry for you.

James D. Adolwa
2/5/2002

GOOD

It is good to pick a flower
And not crush it in your hand
Good to find a treasure
And know for sure
That it is worth a tidy sum.
It is nice to have a talent
And know what it can do.
It is good to know your treasure
And to know that that treasure is YOU

James D. Adolwa 29/1/2002

THE DARK SIDE

THE DARK SIDE…some of us have a problem writing when we are happy… all that ever gets written is the darkness… I try to say as much as I can with the fewest words… original Kenyan poetry but from the darker side of things…


Reverse Psychology/ Some encouragement

Nonsense!
That’s all you write.
It is all Nonsense!
Look at it!
It doesn’t make sense at all
You use so many words
To say so little
And the meaning is lost
In all the words you use
What should have meant one thing...
Now means everything!

It’s all useless!
Why put it down on paper?
Hopeless!
It doesn’t add value to society.
Your poetry is rubbish
Not worth a thing
Take all you’ve written and burn it
The world would be better without it.

James D. Adolwa
27/3/2002
84 Words, 20 Lines

More Inspiration

You must be seriously disturbed
if you write poetry
People go through these things everyday
yet you keep rolling then around in your head
Get a life
Get ahead
Take alcohol
Or pay for a doctors help
Don’t twist up the tubes
And mash up the stuff in your brain

James D. Adolwa
08/02/2009

My life: My writing.

I may not speak much with my mouth
But I’ll talk heaps with my pen
and though you may take it away
My mind will still keep writing within itself
Till the scratching of the pen
on the paper of my mind
will make so much noise inside
that you can’t ignore the sound outside
Then you’ll gag me, and try to silence me
Cuff me to stop me from writing
Shackle me to stop me from moving
But inside you can’t take away
My heart, my life, my passion, my writing


Authenticity

It is not how you act
But how you are
Not what you have
But who you are
Not where you go
But where that’s home
Not who you meet
But who you’re with.

Not what is temporary
But what endures
Not the journey
But the road you’re on
Not what is imagined
But what is believed
That is what is important…
I think…..

James D. Adolwa
25/1/2002




Lunch Date

I talked to the devil
I talked to the devil
On the phone
last night
With a little demon at her side
Chattering all the time

I made a date with the devil
I made a lunch date
On the phone
With the devil last night

We planned to meet after church
Sunday afternoon at ten past one
To have lunch with the devil
Right after Sunday mass.

James D. Adolwa.
27/3/2002
67 words, 16 Lines

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Poor

James D. Adolwa 29/1/2002

Pulled this off my blog. It was published in Kwani? 6 which was launched on 17th December 2010. So I'd encourage you to get a copy. There is a lot of good stuff (great short stories and poetry) in there.

Click on the link below to read the editorial of Kwani? 6.

Kwani? 06 Editorial

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><



Petty
The more you try to show
how sated you are
The hungrier you look
The more gadgets you acquire-
The more symbols you possess
Reality shows you have much less

The more you speak
The more you mislead
But your act is not believable though.
If only you were the audience and not the cast
You’d throw your act out fast.

It would be a great thing for you
To find a place that is real
Where you are happy with whom you are
Not what you wish to be.
What you are doing now
Is welcoming guests to
A mansion you haven’t yet built.
Ridiculous! Isn’t it?

James D. Adolwa
25/1/2002

Average (33 words)

Just another average clod
Not above
Not below
Not shiny not dull
Just average
Like the colour of soap
Average
Defined by only what it is not
Not excellent
Not poor
Just average

13/12/2001 James D. Adolwa



Free

You watch a bird fly
And think it’s free!
Damn prisoner of instinct
Mindless robot of nature
Where is the birds’ will?
Where is its resolve?
Where is its freedom?

The bird is bound by chains
Invisible chords of fate
Can a bird change its destiny?
Can a bird decide to alter its lifestyle?
Go against the rules?
Sing a different song
From the one it is programmed to know?

Hopeless slave to monotony.
Can he flap his wings differently?
Poor prisoner bird
When I look at you
I don’t admire you
I just feel sorry for you.

James D. Adolwa
2/5/2002

Good
It is good to pick a flower
And not crush it in your hand
Good to find a treasure
And know for sure
That it is worth a tidy sum.
It is nice to have a talent
And know what it can do.
It is good to know your treasure
And to know that that treasure is YOU

James D. Adolwa 29/1/2002