Thuti Ti Ruuo

Ûnjîraga ndige gûcumîka,
Ona ndaigua ndîmûhacîke,
Atî nî ûthaka wa Waceke,
Na no ûî Waceke ti muceke,
Athakarire tûgîîkora haceke.

Wanjîrire ndige thuti,
Ûkînjîra ndige gûcumîkîra maûndû,
Kaî ûtoî thuti ti ruuo, ndîturaga,
Thuti no îkorwo îî mehia, no ti ûkunderu,
Ûngîanjîrire ndîhûûge na thuti njûru.

Ndî cûkuru ,wanjîraga ngîe thuti ya mathomo,
Ndî kanitha wanjîraga ngie thuti ya Ngai,
Na mûciî wanjîraga ndîrirîrie arîa me mbeca, ndîmaiyûkie ta ngerekano,
Na githe ndwakîona ti thuti ciothe njûru,
Reke ndîrirîrie Waceke, ndahoota kwîhotanîra.

Thuti na meerirîria ma ngoro rîî,
Reke njuge kwî mega na mooru,
Kwi ma kûguna, kûhûûnia na kûhunia mbeû,
Wîrirîrie wagîrîru, wîhokeku na ûgacîri,
Mûthia-inî nî ûgakenerera ûhotani.

No ûngîtuîka ûrakenio nî kîro na ciero rîî,
Ûgûikio gîturengeinî ta kanyoni,
Ûmunywo njoya, ûninwo hinya,
Wanangîrwo megutha na rûcio rûhacîkwo,
Ûgîtigwo ûkiuga na arîkorwo nîwoî.

Thuti nî njega îngîtuma wîkîre kîo,
Thuti nî njega îngîtuma wîgune,
Thuti nî njega ûngîerûhia mûtûrîre,
No angîkorwo nî ya gûkwagania tiga,
Angîkorwo nî ya ûici, îyo rekania nayo,
Thuti ndîrî ruuo, no noîrehe rûuo na kwîrira.

The Wrist

Who are you, and where do you stand,
Are you saved,I believe you are,
You may differ on denominations, religions and beliefs,
But hey, look at your hand, your fingers,
Aren’t they many, but they don’t hold themselves.

Every finger runs to the wrist,
However much each finger looks strong,
The support comes from the wrist,
And yes the wrist brings the fingers together,
A common factor, a support system.

Unfold your fist and feast,
Rest on the wrist of Christ,
Pray that your efforts don’t go to waste,
For if your basis sits on Christ,
Blessings will come, pressed, shaken & full.

Never be afraid because of a choice you make,
Just because its different doesn’t make it wrong,
Just because its chosen by few doesn’t make it sinful,
At the end, it will matter that you look upon Jesus.
Upon the wrist the fingers rest, gets supported, gets strength.

The Little Difference

The Little Difference

It was hilly and I was weary
Tried to seek validation and acceptance,
None was coming my way clearly,
There were bills and no deals to seal,
Thus I had to make a way, my way,
And looking behind I fought to change.

By and by, a coin came in joined by a note,
I told the ones I had left behind to join,
Told them to hold on and work harder,
Told them anger would frustrate them more,
Told them a little change was good to start off,
And I knew we were headed somewhere.

On the way someone came and boosted,
A help that made my head turn, waiting for tokens,
But I knew the cycle, a trend that dug deep,
Within no time we would be starting again,
A path I had walked a million times in pain
Thus I chose to meet enemies of today.

I looked at my friend in a wheelchair,
Made a path of ease and safe movement,
He got to his errands easily and I mine,
Never asked me to push him again,
Gave me space and time, and him joy,
His smile of ease pushed his service and income.

I met with an outcast, enemy of law,
I sat with him, reasoned with him,
I shared because I wanted,
I shared because I found it,
I shared because it was worth,
What I wanted I found and made it worth.

In an estate that leaked all bad manners,
In an estate that leaked all foul smells,
In an estate that leaked dirty waters,
An estate where diseases struck at will,
I unclogged, and taught of hygiene,
Health was achieved, peace was embraced.

The teacher with Milk

She always wanted to be a farmer,
Looked at the plains beyond the school,
Envied the young women farmers,
But her life was bent, her hopes pressed,
She wanted more, and time was now.

She looked as the children’s played,
So lost in what her mind played,
Her life was no child play,
Yet she had to always see children’s play
Her prayer and wish playing mind games.

A burden of the past crowded her mind,
The hurdles of the future made her timid,
But still grace followed her in kind,
Only that the agony to balance made her slide,
A hustle to top the teachers glass, she sold milk.

Waking up to collect milk, with no cow of her own,
Sell and be in class on time to teach,
A struggle to befit the future & lift the past,
On route to put books and milk to task,
Pray that the role play didn’t crush to job loss.

Roles, responsibilities and duty, chaos,
Pains, past and perfection plans,
Gallons of milk, chalk dust,
The ticks of sale and ticks if books, all red,
She knew what she was found, was ready.

If breakthrough was a sour drink,
If managing was palm wine,
This teacher was ready for both,
The society judged, still learned from her,
It was her path to walk, a race to run,
Not for fun, just to make a difference.

By
Tonnie Mugi

Unmasking

You go out of your way to be there for others,
Break your back, serve them when they gathers,
Hide your fears by adding more feathers,
You are beautiful and understanding,
But this is what breaks you continually.

A time comes and you want a shoulder,
A time comes when you want a shade,
And them that you would die for run,
Get busy from your call, left to the sun,
Give reasons and excuses you are alone.

Waking up brings memories,
Waking up opens a window of hope,
And between memories and hope,
A door stays half shut, for you to decide,
Is what bit me yesterday my poison or healing?

What if they only need you for a little while,
For a little need of scratching their back,
To be their stepping stone without you,

Are you strong enough to be a bridge?
To look at their happiness that draws your sorrows.

Making up for your sorrows and pains,
In a limit you only knew for others,
Have been cleaning other’s stains,
But you woke and saw the world, plain,
Its time your joy lit your face.

Time to unmask and wear reality,
Time to draw lines and lanes with clarity,
Time to give self worth a priority,
Time to stand and be vibrant,
No longer dictated by a few but by self.

Yes It Is a No

A girl of her beauty, queen of her own,
Comes your way, to pass by or stay,
Enjoys your company and helps you,
She ain’t naive, she’s human,
Respect her, warm her with a heart on your sleeves.

She dreams of a safe living,
She is alone and is prone,
She comes to you as human, not as girl,
Seeks respect irrespective of who you are,
Could be your dream girl, therefore wait.

If you can’t tame yourself let her go,
If what you seek ain’t ready from her,
Is not what she wishes to offer,
Sharpen your tools and seek a new minefield.
For maize isn’t found in a wheat field.

A simple answer doesn’t mean its the right one,
Doesn’t call for your views,
Listen and respect it,
Fact is it’s the said one,
Her decision, and is final.

Judge your misconception not her answer,
She won’t treat wounds if you treat your pride,
She won’t depressed if only you impress,
She knows what will be born if she cares less,
But you care less of what she will bear.

Blindfolded

You had a phone and called home,
You were warned of the impending dangers,
I walked home, a home being vandalised,
A home being carried away by floods,
Not because no one cared, but no one made it,
And you walked away, knowing what awaited me,
No warning as I jumped to join the lost.

I raised my voice, voice of concerns,. Raised facing the mirror, and listened,
I was my first spectator,
Faced the cameras monitoring me,
Monitoring my moves to prove my stand,
A stand, a standoff to a reality.

They sent you to pin me down,
Gave you no reason but purpose,
You came and stepped on my neck,
Left me to die, forgotten like a wreck,
Went back home to your joy, paid perks,
A day later your grandpa calls you,
A family he wants to eulogize,
A bird felled by your stone.

Did you ask yourself why,
Why you were hurried to replace her,
Her that you never knew,
Her that stood against all odds,
Odds that made you love it there,
Told to demolish her tradition,
Tradition that held all this together.

A blindfold seals eyes, doesn’t take ’em out,
And this was your constant hideout,
That without having to check out,
That you had to cheque out,
Leaving masses in cries of loss,
Leaving the world a bitter place,
While you had the tools to build in it a palace.

In the face of the earth, see all you unearthed,
And immediately became a statistic,
All counting your mistakes,
Even the ones that put all this at stake,
They joined hands to condemn you,
And you are left alone in your binding,
Still blaming your blinding.

The Weeded Crop

Every day they ran downstream,
For them it was just another team,
Throughout, what was heard were screams,
No one thought that had any impacts,
For farming needed real plans not play.

Guided by knowledge they planted,
The climate was great and promising,
The adequacy of all farms plans,
Expectations run high,
The maize would do well that year.

Filled by energy they played,
In the fields they scattered the beans,
Into the ground the beans sunk,
And this was just a play on the clay,
Amazingly the beans sprouted.

What was planted by knowledge grew,
What was planted by play grew,
But all kept quiet, they knew,
The two plants competed a new,
But the farmer wanted only one.

Weeding on the farm was inevitable,
Uprooting was a must but regrettable,
The farmer wanted what he planted,
But what grew from play looked better,
He wanted to make a choice.

Could he choose the maize and stay,
Could he choose the beans and stay,
The beans should have been as weeds,
The maize should have been as the crop,
But the beans won, the maize got weeded.

Dear landlord

After your nagging and me begging,
For a lower pay of rent bindings,
Am back, it hasn’t been easy prying,
And yes its been long, crying,
Cringing to some hope of light .

Am back coz I had to come,
But Mr landlord, your house,
It has no manners of course,
I knocked, not once, even with force,
I had to open for myself and get in.

Can you imagine, the house was dirty,
It couldn’t manage to stay clean,
I paid enough for it to live & stay cosy,
And I kept away, gave it space, alone,
Was staying clean that hard.

The house was as empty as I left it,
It couldn’t even add a single thing,
It let my sufurias get dirty, that’s petty,
The way I was toiling to write you cheques,
And not a single advice to your house Sir.

Luckily I didn’t leave a bed,
This your house might hide under,
Happy I don’t have to check there,
It seems to be a conniving one,
Hope I will sleep without fear of caving in.

Can we just agree that you be talking,
Talk to your house the way you talk to me,
Remind it I pay for it not the other way,
Tell me it will behave while I am away,
Or advice me otherwise not to pay.

Is it possible for you to ask your house,
To tell me the stories that happened,
Looks like someone leaned heavily on my door,
But you my landlord didn’t even smell the odour,
Coz all you wanted was your money for your ill mannered house.

Let’s have a meeting, you and your house,
It will have to take care of itself in my absence,
I can’t be worrying of its mess,
I should be in the mountains of kirinyaga, playing chess,
Kissing the jembe & overlooking my ploughs,
Listening to birds, while its just messing itself.

The Affair in Memory of a lost Mind

As young as I was, my home was the best,
Pure bliss and laughing with ease,
My dad do alikuwa head of home affairs,
All affairs dad alizishughulikia poa,
Furaha iliwa mob with this pair,
Sijui nikirant ntasema aje kuhusu The Affair.

Growing up nikarealize something,
The pair was growing apart fairly,
Me na my siblings tulikuwa  also part,
Hio rift ikaanza kuonekana kwao na sisi,
Furaha ya raha ikawa kero la karaha,
But am just ranting, but wewe unaeza rave.


With time hizi affairs zilichange to this pair,
Badili ya ku appear kusettle affairs za hao,
Dad alianza kusettle in affairs za roho,
Suspicion ikaanza kuleta tension,
Then fears of the affair zikaanza vita,
Maathe do huyo akaanza ranting.

Whenever accusations zilianza,
Watoi tuliwa tunajua itaisha na vita,
Twajikunyata tusiskie maneno makali,
But haikuishia hapo, tension na mawazo,
Away from home kupoa but ngoja likizo,
Ranting from morning, hakuna kujisave.

Mawazo kila siku, bila wa kutuhamasisha,
Maathe akawa kila time nikaa atupa mbao,
Dad kukuwa nje ikawa sisi twashida ubao,
Chuki but washindwa uzielekeze wapi,
But mwanzo kaa dad angejisitiri,
Maisha ingekuwa tu poa, bila misukosuko.