THINK BIG: BEN CARSON

At Poets United Thursday Think Tank, there is a prompt to write a poem inspired by a book one has read or is reading. I have read hundreds of books now from as diverse areas as possible but the one that will always stand out is THINK BIG by Ben Carson.

I read the book after I had finished form four.  I wish I had read it earlier.

Never have I been influenced by a book than THINK BIG. The acrostic stands for:

T -Talents/time: Recognize as gifts from God;

H -Hope for good things and be honest;

I -insight from people and good books;

N -Be nice to all people;

K  -Knowledge: Recognize as they are key to living;

B -Books: Read them actively;

 I -In-depth learning skills: Develop them;

G -God: Never get too big for Him.

I also read Gifted Hands (perhaps contrary to what should have been expected since it came first). You see, in the village where I grew up the danger was that there were a lot of uncertainties about the future one had on education and being “different”.  So, we read because that is what we had been told to do. And when one finished form four, one knew that that was it.

Then THINK BIG came into the picture.

I was opened up to a world of a thousand possibilities. I was given a pedestal where I could stand and say, ‘yes, folks, I am here to rule the world’.  So, urged by Ben Carson, I grew from that timid, cocooned village boy to one ready to take the world by storm. I wasn’t very sure about doing Law then. After that, I believed it earnestly. In my learning at Campus, I read intently. I never read to pass exams (though that was the ultimate goal, unfortunately). I have always tried not to be narrow in my reading. So, I don’t read Law only. I read spiritual books, I read biographies, I read proverbs, I read history, I read novels ( classicals come into mind such as Charles Dickens, Leo Tolstoy, John Grisham, African authors notably Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Chinua Achebe, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Kenyan authors especially Meja Mwangi, David Mulwa, Dawood—honestly, I cannot name all of them). And there are philosophical books which I admire a lot. The thinkers such as Ralph Ewaldo Emerson, Voltaire, Friedrich Nietzche, and many others, in their books, expand our minds to such elasticity they can never be the same again.

Well, now to the poem, inspired by the book THINK BIG.

So, someone thought that by holding a gun he is so powerful?

Fingers on trigger, ready to rip, where is power in that?

I say a book in somebody’s hands is the most powerful

I know of countless little frames who with books

Have wielded so much power by thought

Their fists are this small, their bellies are these small,

If you met them in the train station or somewhere near a mall

They will be your ordinary guy

But verily verily I tell you

If you measured their minds by ounces

The kilo of their thoughts will break the weighing machine

Such are books, such are thoughts

I don’t know of any other way

To improve one’s welfare than through books

Believe me, I tried mediocrity and it didn’t work

I would watch flat-out dimwittedness cascade before me

And I would swat it hard only for it to taunt me

Been years now, I hear she lives in another town

Well, I confess, I can’t fight

So, for a few hours reading

Brushing through what others before me thought and said

I am called a genius!

The other day, I ran through the inventory of my wealth

Hardly any apartment nor car

Just stacks of books

When time comes I will tell my children,

“Children, I was a wealthy man, of that be sure,

Not your ordinary trappings of wealth

No, in these books I leave you, search for Truth,

Rub minds with the great sages, aim for greatness

Ordinary people strive for food, clothing and shelter

Great people strive for Essence, Spirituality and Higher Realms”

Utabiri wa Msomaji Matumbo ya Mbuzi*

My son, you will not get lost.

Yesterday, I slaughtered a goat for you

Studied the matumbo carefully

So many paths, so many deviations

So many illusions, so many falsehoods

All strewn your way, son

There was a river crossing your path, son

Not a rowdy one, no, just a small silent stream

And as I looked at it, my eyes clouded

Those treacherous hill slopes, no I wasn’t afraid of,

Those forests with wanyama wa porini, no I wasn’t afraid of,

Those shafts of lightning and thunder, no no I wasn’t afraid of,

It was that stream I was afraid of.

Son, many men have drowned in this stream

Didn’t our people say that a silent stream drowns a man?

You see, son, the river beckons,

“Step with both feet, I am shallow”

And fools do so

We know that you dip one foot first

Or get a lukup and test the waters

Or even whisper to the river,

“River god, don’t be angry at me

I am a traveller greeting you and crossing”

And you are spared, the River god is merciful

Son, watch out for that stream

Watch out for her lull

I am not very worried about the cliffs

For I know you are a warrior with instincts.

*Kiswahili for “the prediction of the reader of goat’s offals”.

Matumbo- Offals.

Lukup- Pokot for walking stick.

Wanyama wa porini- Kiswahili for wildlife

# For a Prompt of Poets United’s Thursday Think Tank #108 Compass

Sacking the City of God? Really?

I had been talking a lot and writing a lot,

But a few weeks ago,

I wanted to read more and listen more,

So I delved into what Paulo Coelho writes

Dug into Ngugi Thiong’o’s ‘Grain of Wheat’ and

‘I Will Marry When I Want’

Read some more of Stephen Covey and Holy Texts

The Bhagavadgitas and the Quran and the Dhammapada

Then having circled around these

Skirting along these great mysteries

I listened, with amusement, the great

‘Hitchens v Hitchens’ debate

Two brothers tousling up on whether God is there or not

And for good effect, I watched PZ Myers’ ‘Sacking the City of God’

I watched and listened and pondered

I watched Richard Dawkins’ lectures

‘Now Praise Intelligent Design’ and ‘the Poetry of Science’

And ‘the Purpose of Purpose’

And ‘Why evolution is True’ by Jerry Coyne

And Richard Feynman on ‘the Character of Physical Law’

Brilliant minds, these,

But as for me, I believe in the great God,

Tororot, the God of the Rising Sun,

I don’t have a brilliant mind to understand these great mysteries

But at least I have faith God is there

They call Him ‘proximate cause’,

I call Him ‘Tororot, the God the Rising Sun’

He created Kacheliba Hill with its magnificent cap

He created me and has seen me grow

He is the author of my poetry

Unlike Hitchen’s ‘God is Not Great’

My Tororot is GREAT,

Yes, like Hitchens, I might not understand the mysteries

But that DOESN’T REMOVE THE FACT that Tororot is there

The order in the creation of this world sings of the glory of HIM

The kitmikai, the rock-upon-rock in Kisumu, my Tororot created it

Everything, almost, about the majesty of nature

Is in line with Truth, the Truth that Tororot is there

That is my belief and with what has happened in my life,

My Tororot is a living testimony

That might sound unscientific or plausible

But I am willing to be stupid on behalf of Tororot.

Telegram from the hills

It has been a while since I penned a poem. I am busy reading a couple of books. I realized that I need to read more books. As a writer, it would be foolhardy to strive to write more without reading more. In fact, it is by reading more that one writes better.

Recently, Paulo Coelho has been my favourite author. I read the Alchemist a while ago and I fell in love with his writing. Right now I am reading his other titled ‘By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept’. There are a couple of other titles in queue. Along with these, I am also reading 'The Law of Success' by Napoleon Hill.

There are also a collection of about four books of proverbs that I am reading quite slowly. One of them is a collection of Hausa proverbs. I love them.

The other day I was challenged by a book club which listed classic books and asked how many one had read. This got me thinking. I haven’t been reading. And I am not talking about those articles or newspapers or magazines that you count as your ‘books’. No. I am talking about 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire',   'Prose Every Child Should Know' edited by Mary E. Burt, or 'So Long, It’s Been Good To Know You' a memoir by Bert Brun, and so on. For your information, Prose Every Child Should Know is like a must-read for an adult. After reading it, you realize how much you never knew much of the basics. The Aesop’s Fables, written in their characteristic brevity, makes for an enjoyable read too.

I am in the reading room.

I thought I should have let you know.

#Wamathaijuly: Kenya's Poetry, Songs and Photography

On Saturday, the 14th of July 2012, I had the privilege of attending #Wamathaijuly at the Michael Joseph (MJ) Centre, Nairobi, Kenya. Well, you guessed it. It was an evening of poetry, song and photography. I enjoyed myself.

The emcees for the event were Sam Buggz and Stella Nasambu. In the photo is Stella Nasambu doing her stuff.

Elpoet performing and below with Samo & The Almighty, doing their favourite, "The School Bell Rings"

Jemedari performing his piece "Letter to the President" 

I was impressed by her. Didn't quite get her name but her Kiswahili poem was brilliant.

The drummer for DempseynTheBoys, the trio self-described as " A kenyan trio of ordinary guys performing extra-ordinary music". You have to check out DempseynTheBoys at twitter.

Below, Julie Wang'ombe perfoming her piece, "Genocide"

Wangari performing her piece "The Revolution will be Televised"

Njeri Wangari, favouritely known as Kenyanpoet on twitter, the author of the poetry book "Minds and Minefields" reading her poem and below, performing a moving piece lamenting the digital age.

Mwende Ngao (MwendeSusu, on twitter) performing her two pieces, 'Ground' and 'The Dream Valley'

Kavosa, performing her piece.

Wamathai, the host, the brainchild of #Wamathaijuly and wamathai performing two pieces.

Moraa Onsando, strumming the guitar, Kenya's diva to watch. Follow her music at www.soundcloud/moraa-onsando

KOA Photography. Check out what they have been up to here.

Bobby Muirugi, performing.

Ngartia, doing a vernacular piece. Great talent!

Si ni Sisi stole the show. Their costumes, their stage presence, the lead, the drummers, the dancers, everything about them was well choreographed and executed. Echoes of the Hills wishes you well.

"This was the life of the warriors!"

Adelle, performing her piece. Don't be sad, be happy, is all that we can say.

Ndila, performing "Mr. Jailer". Wonderful rendition!

Now looking forward to #WamathaiSeptember. 

echoesofthehill

Happy People

These people have discovered where happiness lies. I simply admire the elderly man in the merry-go-round, completely oblivious of what others might think about him.


Picture taken on 15th July at the Uhuru Park Recreational Grounds, Nairobi.

Let Kenya Be

We will never leave you

For at the darkest hours we stood by

We know your pain, for we have lived it,

We know what sorrow is, for we have felt it

Kenya, the land of hypocrites

Where, the sons of mau mau live in holes

Figuratively interred by the graves of their fathers

Yet you who have lived the pain, show us your scars

Show us your bullet marks, strip so that we may witness

We are the defining moment, countrymen and women,

The point where we are at take-off

We were left by Singapore and Korea

We cannot afford to get lost again

It has always been defining moments, for all we care

1963 was a defining moment too

And year by year, we have grown weary of speeches

Speeches coated with poetry and stolen from America

With time, brother, we have shut our ears to those take offs

1963, we had all the hope, all the dream, all the vision

What makes you think we are excited by these?

At independence, we swore to fight disease, ignorance and illiteracy

This remains our rallying call

And with it, we have new challenges,

Corruption at our offices, boss leadership,

Nepotism, favouritism, tunnel-visioned leadership…

Blah blah blah blah

Name them all, name them all,

But like a song from a scratched CD, you annoy,

There was a time we were excited by you,

You naming all the vices strangling us

And with the naiveté we had, we exclaimed,

‘Now, that is our prophet, our seer’

And with all our energy from our malnourished stomachs

We carried you high, your big body weighing upon us,

Some, like victims of any revolution, died from suffocation

Or dislocated spines, and we buried them silently

But now, you are no seer, tell us what you will do

When, how, why, and if need be slap your forehead

Lick your tongue and swear before our ancestors

This is the blue-print to our future, Wanjikus,

In it, I lay out what I will do for Kenya

In agriculture for example—no rain-fed agriculture

In security— two pistols for every cop

In education— a salary hike to teachers

In health— bigger and well-equipped hospitals

Blue-prints, that’s right,

Written by technocrats holed up in offices

Consulting on big tomes and countless reports

Pray, mr. blue-print, if only you listened to the

Hoes of farmers in the fields, you wouldn’t speak a thing

The police are shot every day, their numbers are few,

They live in decrepit shacks divided by curtains

And there you are, unashamedly promising them more pistols,

No, they need no pistols, they need more respect,

To patrol the city with the dignity worth their ranks

To retreat to houses that speaks of the Nation’s respect for them

The teachers, the teachers need not be lied to

As if they were the children they educate

We owe it to teachers for who we are,

Pray, was it fair to reduce all this to carrot and stick?

And health care, why should it be promised?

Why should doctors strike?

What message does it send to a mkokoteni pusher?

You have known me all this time,

I helped establish blah blah blah,

Trust me with this honour,

I am different

I am not like my predecessors

I was in a bad system

I was not corrupt

Same lies, same mouth, different times,

We have watched you silently, in disgust,

You talking in our TVs, speaking filth all your life,

You did less, you spoke much, you forgot us,

And in the corrupt system you grew up in,

You trained yourself how to bend your head,

To look away when the darkest crimes were committed

Your hands are filled with blood

Of the many you killed when you didn’t speak

You looted much, you gave less,

You have done a little less out of shame

Not by some sense of service within you

You are power-hungry, you are after yourself

And you are corrupt, very corrupt

What Kenya needs are leaders who can preach peace

We should not have a repeat of 2007/2008

Well said, well said,

Yes, they need leaders who can preach peace

Not you, not you,

You are the greatest enemy to Kenya’s peace

If only you had noticed how the skies sigh

Every time you spew bilge, you would not speak,

Why is it that vultures hover around your meetings?

May be I should not ask, but with respect,

You will do everyone good if you let Kenya be