The Pseudo-Species

Image credit: as above

…Uvivu ni adui mkubwa

Wa ujenzi wa taifa

Kwani nicho kiini hasa

Kisababishajo njaa…

Break of dawn, the fleeting music of Maroon Commandos

Lilting from KBC idhaa ya taifa, rousing the nation

From slumber

Urging them to kick their blankets and hit the ground running

It is another dawn, another morning, another struggle

There is something in sleep, good folks,

In the morning that brings sorrow to men untold

Figuratively speaking, lethargy in contrast to the

Fast disappearing darkness to usher a new day

Isn’t it a demoralizing forerunner to the heralding sun

To lie horizontal to the otherwise vertical shafts of the sun rays?

Where is the pomp in the cowardly shield of sleep to the realities of a new day?

But it is not for me to pass a harsh sentence

After all there are “morning persons” and “night persons”

Each so different , of that we are on the same page

Night persons ploughing along late into the night

Eyes as wide-awake, nerves as elastic as a rubber band

Morning persons as dutiful as the Muezzin up as early as 3 a.m

Be that as it may, I have no grudges on these two species

There is a pseudo-species I need to talk about

The one that sleeps early, wakes up late

All day long he had been possessed with reckless impunity on time

No deadlines to meet, no goals to achieve, no failures to be afraid of

And as such, a day to him is a chore, a sickening ritual

Morning could as well be evening, end of day

Isn’t met with unfinished business, that feeling of

“Guilt” for disappointing an item in the to-do-list

And as such, at break of dawn,

the fleeting music of Maroon Commandos

Lilts from KBC idhaa ya taifa

Ewe ndugu yangu wee

Amka kumekucha

Kamata jembe na panga

Twende shamba

But where is our pseudo-species

To listen to the chastisement of Maroon Commandos

This message is not for our pseudo-species:

It is for those with the adrenalin rush to achieve,

He is not,

It is for those with deadlines to beat, goals to achieve

He is not,

It is for those with the spring in their feet and a poise in their heads,

He is not,

But again, this message could be for him

It worries me if they were 10 or 50 or 500 or 1000 of them

What nation will we have?

A nation of a pseudo-species, with pseudo-goals

With a pseudo-mission here on earth?

…Ndugu yangu kumekucha

Amka twende shamba

Jiepushe na uvivu

Tujenge taifa…

I want him to draw line in the sand today

And say, “Enough is enough”

Wring sleep in his hands and cast it into the sunrise

For it disappoints to see him

Cuddled in torn blankets in a shack

And never put breakfast on table

Yet there weren’t other ways of eking out a living

Than for him to cut through dawn to disentangle from poverty

There were no medals, in the past or now, for those

Who gave a winking glance to the glory of sunrise

…Uvivu ni adui mkubwa

Wa ujenzi wa taifa

Kwani nicho kiini hasa

Kisababishajo njaa…

Pseudo-Species, choose ye now

Either probity or derision

Exercise thy fair judgment

Lorot Son of the Hills has spoken.

C) Lorot Salem 2011

Sword

"Wherever your spirit be, Sword, let it stay close

As oft many a troubled one never perch

But let yours find home...a home in our hearts

Tony and I, and others"

Sword, we christened him

Tony and I, near Westgate Shopping Mall

A small, black-furred canine of a German Shepherd

Tony ruffled him, teased him even

And to protect his turf, little Sword barked

And advanced timidly to Tony

Chiwawa would have been proud

My love for Sword registered immediately

Never cared about the Japanese Spitz or the Bulldog

Or the Terrier

I remember how Sword could pose for photos

We could stand there and wait for the click

May be I could hear Sword interrupt,

“C’mon, buddy, click that thing…been wagging

My tail for far too long..”

One morning, Sword poo-pooed in the office

Well, in a small carton box

As we cleaned up, Sword would look on

All innocent, all repentant

May be saying,

“Folks, that was just a small poo,

Cheer up, that was not a honey-badger’s fart!”

Two months later, Sword dies

Tony and I take him to a post-mortem

We bury him together with his collar

All I am left with are his photos

And wonderful memories of him.

All pictures copyright by the author

C) Lorot Salem 2011

This is For You

This is for you

On the brink of losing hope

Tugging at the rope

Standing at the cliff

Before the ultimate jump

This is for you

This is for you

The Silent One

With the sun of righteousness

Lighting up your heart

Yet shadowed by pain of mankind

The wilted flower of love

The plucked feathers of a sweet dove

The dry, parched throats guttural

The systemic errors basically structural

Still, shine rays of hope, Silent One

This is for you

This is for you

That you say are ugly

Tell me, who said so?

Have you looked at yourself in the mirror

And marveled at your beauty?

Have you heard your voice

Replayed the clip over and over?

Measure yourself by your unique parameters

Never let others define what you should be

The same lie travels around the world

That  wafer-thin is the thing

So naturally endowed women

Skip nth meals, endure cruel dieting

Hit the aerobics from Monday to Monday

With sorrow, with lives most hollow

Al l with the aim of becoming Naomi Campbell

Quit it, sisters, healthy is the keyword

Some were born slim, others fluffy

Some were born light, others dark

Some were born tall, others short

Be yourself, there is only one template of you

Be happy, find beauty within you

This is for you

This is for you

The  herdsman

What story is there for you

When you sleep in the rains with your cows?

Or walk across to the border to search for pasture?

Year after year, you keep them

Even amidst the dried riverbeds and dusty soil

You put your life to risk, you are ready to die

For those animals

This is for you

This is for you

The Child of 8-4-4

Who lived through maziwa ya nyayo

To the Kibaki era

Lived through insha and ngeli

Survived factorization and L.C.M and G.C.D

Escaped licking acids from shaky pipettes and burettes

Managed through Kiu, KIlio Cha Haki, Looking For a Rain God,

Amezidi, Coming to Birth, Walenisi

Endured methali, semi, tanakali za sauti, kinyume, kukanusha

Fasihi, tamthilia, mashairi, ufupisho, taarifa, isimu za lugha

And now walking around with soaked knowledge

Looking for a job, unemployed, frustrated, disenfranchised

This is for you

This is for you

Yes you, you the weaver of words

You who suffers writer’s block

Labouring for that one poem

That will carry a message

Through the generations

Adored in some year like 4057

Writing with a fire in your bones

And compassion in your heart

For the sheer love of the art

This is for you

C) Lorot Salem 2011

This Lady I Loved

Image Credit: google.com

Matters of love always confuse me

Why is it that when you love someone

So much so that the mention of their names

Causes you goosepimples

Yet they wouldn't care a jot?

And why is it that the one that loves you

Always calling, always being kind, always loving you

This one you ignore her calls and never care for a minute?

Why is this so?

This is my love story:

Once upon a time

On the slopy grassy fields of my heart

I had love...I loved this fair lady

So I sat down one night

With a dictionary, a writing pad

and love buzzing in my head

I wrote my first draft letter

Cancelled it, wrote another, cancelled it

Finally, I wrote her the final copy

With the best handwriting that my English teacher

Would have praised

Then I sprayed it with a little perfume

So that when she opens it

She would be hypnotized by my fragrance

Many weeks later, I got her reply

Nay, my own letter

With a red pen, she had corrected

my spelling errors, grammar, subject-verb, coherence, whatnot

Below it, she had written:

'6/20 Fair. Proof-read your work!'

As I sat in the dormitory

My cube-mates laughed irritatingly

Some leaning on the wall, others holding their sides

I wondered what was so funny!

But undaunted, I gathered my broken self

And carefully planned and executed my plan

So I joined the Scouts, the Y.C.S, the Drama Club

the Child-to-Child Club, the History Club, the Language Club

All to impress her

But she never noticed the passing shadow of my left ear!

Her friend actually confided in me

That she said that 'I am all over the place-

As if I wanted to be the Board of Governors Chairman'

So I changed my tact

And turned to my books

I read to impress her

To show her that the brightness gene

Was passed down our family line

And that I was the next best brain

The world was to worry about

Oh, how I Immersed myself in books

I made calculus sound like market chatter

I read ahead of the teacher and asked questions

Just to prove my worth to her

I carried around those big voluminous Physics books

And made sure she saw me

yet if she asked me why electricity wire lines slacken

I would collapse ( Well, she would have taken my brightness away)

All these I did- but she hardly noticed me!

Then a friend suggested poetry

I also tried it

I had to read Mills and Boons

Romance novels, David's Rubadiri

Songs of Songs, the Horn of My Love

To capture well the emotions of my heart

To tell her that if what I was going through

Was part of her 'Love Test'

Then my commendation was long overdue

In that poetry, I combined assonance, alliteration

imagery, repetition, onomatopoeia, love-manio-poeia

And so many other poeais-

All to good effect of

Telling her that I meant what I said

I went to the trouble of asking my English teacher

to 'look at it'

Before I send it 'for publication in the papers'

After this, I surreptitiously slipped the poem

Between her biology book covers

She read it later that night, came back next morning

Hollered at me: 'Salem, poetry is not my thing!

Plus, I-DON'T-LOVE-YOU!'

'But....'

'Shhhhssssh'

Then she slapped my poem on the desk and said,

'Here! Leave me alone'

I wanted to tell her it took me one week to write

that poem but I had been shhhed.

But I did not leave her alone

It was as if for every drama she unleashed

I loved her even more

All I wanted was for her to listen to me

To tell her that she was 'killing me softly'

All I wanted was to play badminton with her

Play so well, dazzle her with the shuttle cock and the racquet

All I wanted was to do anything for her:

Write for her her notes, answer for her questions in class if need be,

Assist her with maths problems even if I was a dummy, hear her fears

and hopes, motivate her, encourage her, do anything to marry her!

All I ever wanted was one micro-second of her attention, one twitching smile,

One laugh, just one coy, shy look

All these she eluded from me

I would sit in the study room

And hear her whisper:

'Salem, all along I always loved you...

I still do, always will'

My other part would say:

'C'mon, Salem, who are you kidding

Never worked, never will...no hating,

Just a brotherly truth...don't shame the

Brother-dom'

I would discredit this voice and feel pain

Stab at my heart

An image of the slapped poem on the desk

Would blind me

I would see her sashaying away, away from me

And there I would stand

Pleading with her, beseeching her, begging her

Calling upon her to give me an 1/8th of a chance

Just one conversation, just one fleeting moment

To shed her a tear

But she will be gone

And I will sit in the study room

Reading, re-reading, de-reading

One line or a paragraph

For the next two hours

And never understand a comma.

C) Lorot Salem 2011

Excuse Me, You said Perfect Poet What?

For honouring Lorot Son of the Hills
with Perfect Poet Award
May you, Promising Poets' Poetry Cafe
And you, my reader,
both the seen and unseen
both the 'top-commentor' and
'not-so-commentor'
May you thirst for more poetry
May your minds draw man's dreams
May you always keep that child-like curiosity
May that colour in your eyes never fade
For who am I, a mere mortal,
without the dash to my words?
What am I worth if I cannot describe
the taste of ugali twice as well as to water your mouth?
And to you all, the invited guests to this
Thanks for coming-even the gatecrashers-
M.C., stop talking, please play the music!

I nominate Andy.

Legal Mind

Packed Lecture Hall. Legal maxims

Short, fast-paced questions, equally

Thoughtful answers and more questions

Hypotheticals, scenarios, what-ifs

Delved into with precision

Simulations. Moots. Role plays.

Person X, Client Y, Advice them

What will you tell your client?

Legal theories aside, cast into the

Shallow ponds of the Undergraduate

No postulations:

We are here to be entrusted

With life, property and liberty

Have them in contemplation

They are your neighbor, we are told

We draw instruments

As if they will be attested to

Like in the real world

This, they call legal mind

For it captures a thousand possibilities

It can notice the awkward comma in a provision

It questions, it casts doubts, it shakes credibility

It is guided by whys and wherefores

It doesn’t rest for it goes berserk

Exhuming buried intentions and careful device

Uprooting well laid secrets and guilt

Weaving a story from evidence and witnesses

Inside the packed lecture hall, minds are stropped

Brains meet brains, wits meet wits

The difference is that they are not wigged!

C) Lorot Salem 2011

Marabou Storks, A Bench and a Mystery

Photo supplied by Poets United

Beside Uhuru Highway, lies a bench

Unsat by strangers in the city

Many a traveler could sit on it

And feasted his eyes on clever hawkers

Selling their merchandise

Or the occasional lovebirds

Chewing on grass

Or adept pedestrians mocking death

But no, people don’t sit on the chair

It is not uncommon for

Marabou Storks

To let C₅H₄N₃O₃

Splash on your face

To your shame!

The City Hall Fathers

Have it on their records

That the bench is in “good condition”

Save for the adventures

Of the Marabou

If you ask me, this is what

Tourists pay to witness first hand!

C) Lorot Salem 2011

From a prompt by Poets United Thursday Think Tank #51 Timeout