Celebrating East African Writing!
I want a Kenyan love poem
A poem that talks about anguish
War shrieks and hymns
I want a poem that ballets
To the tears of the rich
And the laughter of the downtrodden
A poem about the 42 tribes
48 Laws of Power
What willI read when I’m 40?
Imagine Kenya in 1940
Before clan chiefs became presidents
Of colonial masters
I want a poem that is ghetto
Virgins on stilettos
Horny boys on weed planning a gang rape
I want a poem that’s violent
A poem that will flush closet fags
Tell them to enjoy their sexual freedom
Being gay is the new fashion
Vera Sidika thighs?
Hunger in Turkana?
Or bloodthirsty war mongers?
Somalis with grenades and Jihadists?
Cattle raiders and goat rapists?
I want such poems.
I want a poem with 4 colours
And 3 stanzas
A poem with our mixed identity
And foreign slang
I want a poem in my native tongue
I want riddles
Poems that will call me Baba
Change the title of this poem to Saba Saba
A poem that will intimidate the opposition
Poems about abortion
Office sex for promotion
Devotion to foreign gods
I want poems about bribery
Because we all need jobs
Blow jobs at the back of the cab
Kisii temper and witch-lynching
And their love-making
Kikuyu’s love for money and their hatred
By minority tribes
Proud Luos and their love for art
About Luhya’s love for food and sex
I want poems about bombings in the coast
The infiltration of radical Islamists
I want poems about unemployment
Prostitution and looting
Because the youth are used
They are used to being broke
And living in hope
I want to see dead children
And ailing mothers in your poetry
Rusty arrows in skulls of Sabaout Land Defense warriors
Dead bodies of our soldiers in Somali
I want to hear screams in your poems
Screams of damsels getting their clitoris cut off with a rusty razor
Welcome to womanhood
Screams in shopping malls
And rural brothers fighting over a piece of land
And a widow’s inheritance
I want to hear jingles of calabashes
And chants and premonitions of witch-doctors
Sir, call-off the rally
I see splattered brains on your dash-board
Broken hymens of immature women
Tax, taxi-drivers with guns
And preachers who burn churches to get donation
Teachers raping their pupils
And head teachers stealing bursaries meant to school orphans
I want the same head teachers on strike
Followed by doctors and nurses
Pharmacists with expired bottles and pills
By-laws and bills
I want long boring poems
With cryptic English and cliché
Abstract thought and monologue
I’m sick of these uptown poets
Suburban rhymers with broken hearts
Who think life is about romance
And make up sex
I want Hip-hop, Poetry and Jazz
And beautiful pussy
All wrapped up in a single poem
If I were to write a Kenyan poem
What would write about?
All we need is a love poem.
A Kenyan love poem.