At Mama Nitilie

 











I visited Mama nitilie, the best food vendor in my neighborhood

Chafua, chapo dondo, na kadhalika, all her meals tasted so good

“Waa gwaan wazito?” a salutation to the mjengo guys I presented

“Aright mahn” with githeri stuffed in their mouths they responded

“eh Ras, jiseti hapa” looking at me with red eyes Omusakulu offered

In a torn faded blue jeans, a brown vest which used to be white,

and old Nike sneakers on his feet, he moved as he took a big bite

of four folded chapatis as he waited for the stew he had also ordered.

Hell on earth! The size of the fold, the grip in his hand had conquered

and the gnashing of his big brown teeth, those chapatis really suffered

“Habari ya leo mama Njoro?” yawning out of hunger I greeted her

“Mzuri sana Endu” with her thick Meru accent she replied

Still counting some coins from my pocket I ordered for a “starter”

A big jug of Maji ya kunywa; drinking water is actually what I implied

“Umeshindaje leo?” still serving another customer she asked me

“Nikudialala mami. Hakuna mshiko! Na Gava yetu imekalia manoti,

Wanajisambazia tu doe za kazi kwa vijana. Nakuambia, ni mafisi!”

Tightening her leso and laughing, “Kama kawainda eeh?” she inquired

“Zee! Leo nipe dunga na chai moja. Si nakusho nimepigika vi-deadly!”

Looking disappointed I confirmed my order as I drank my water slowly

I then laid back listening to chatty Omusakulu though I was really tired.

After a few minutes I was given my meal and I made peace with my stomach.

-Edwin Onyango

Happy time

From the white tent to the far mountains we stared

As beauty in her eyes sparkled in the warm orange flare

“Wow, happy time” with smiles on our faces we declared

On the table stood two white cups and a red flask of tea to share

Hot water with drops of milk, Kenyan tea that Papa had prepared

Thoughts of a bottle of red wine and a couple cans of cold beer

crept in our heads as life in Ireland to Kenya we compared

Like a Victoria’s secret model she posed on a pale blue plastic chair

She covered her head with a tuque which was part of her evening wear

This barred the cold highland wind to play with her short reddish hair

Our ears filled with African tunes of nature that came from everywhere

Calm and delighted our lungs inflated with the rush of fresh air

My artistic mind painted the scenery crafted with so much flair

Warm and colorful brush stroke to complement a beauty so rare

Beyond the picturesque folds of mountains in the west

It moved slowly like a princess feeling graceful and blest

We watched the vibrant orange and fiery yellow sunset

 changing shift with the elegant moon as it went to rest

-Edwin Onyango

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lUvo6vrIzkg

Subject Matter (Story of My Life)

 

A second born of three children with no father

At a very tender age I also lost my mother

Down my innocent face tears guttered

as I walked to the streets all but flustered.

A family and parental love was the subject matter.

Night workers called me a cold buster
I spent most of my nights by a filthy dumpster

closing my eyes hoping for the night to pass faster

At every crack of dawn new days of troubles I ushered

A roof on my head was the subject matter.

Up and running before the town was astir

I didn’t work in an office; I was a street art master

I Juggled and danced hoping for a bigger cluster

of people to watch my stunts. I was a busker.

A well paying job was the subject matter.

I dug restaurants’ dumpsters for a piece of Muenster

I wondered what it felt like to have bread and butter

for breakfast, heavy lunch and a delicious supper?

Salad, juicy steak then cheese cake on a silver platter

A decent meal on the table was the subject matter.

I rolled on the track of faith with a loose caster

I needed to talk to God for my broken heart to plaster

I later stopped going to church because I hated my pastor

I then tried Islam, Buddhism and later become a Rasta!

A true spiritual journey was the subject matter.

If you asked me what life was, I’d say it was a disaster

Like a lonely injured bird, its wings it could not flutter

I walked bare feet, empty stomach, scars and blisters

In a world of misery, days of the same, life full of clutter

A meaning of life was the subject matter.

-Edwin Onyango

Fighting Evil

Father of darkness, heathens are his children

Mother so heartless, hell is literally her heaven

Sons of tribulation, oppress as the parents rule

Daughters of dejection, paddling in the devil’s pool

Music of the dead, dancing in the edge of insanity

Hands overhead, clapping to the beats of profanity

Evil they spread, causing a steep fall of humanity

Peace and love, a bother to their destructive creeds

From the skies above, raining chaos on wicked seeds

Descendants of death, to hell they want to take us

We fight for breath, praying in the Holy name of Jesus

Sprinkling holy water, casting away spirits of evil

Black cow we slaughter, looking for fire sequel

Sacrifice at the altar, flushing away all upheavals

Leaders gather, repenting for the sins of their people

“OH, Heavenly father, please turn it back to peaceful”

-Edwin Onyango

Simba sleeps tonight

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lUvo6vrIzkg

MP So Sly! (Trust but verify)

We thought that he was a bright and tough guy

So we voted him in to the kitchen of national pie

Then he turned greedy and parasitic like a louse fly

He hastily ate everything leaving plates bone dry

On the new parliament sofa seat with a loose tie

Mouth opened, cloud of sleep in his heavy eyes

It is like the speaker is singing a lullaby

His tempting promises he failed to gratify

His failures he confidently tried to justify

In the streets we started singing our battle cry

“Haki yetu, haki yetu, tunataka haki yetu”

When we stood up to him and asked why

He did not get done all that he promised to do

Covering his lies with more lies he testified

Our determined thoughts he then petrified

That our united minds could not even identify

What to believe or what to nullify

-Edwin Onyango

Death of a King

The sun went down with the smile on her face

And the moon rose with tears in place

The night was filled with wails of death

Her loved one had cut short his breath

Her fragile heart so empty and hollow

Her swollen eyes soaked with sorrow

The painful news traveled faster

Everyone was struck by the disaster

The entire village was saddened by their loss

On their foreheads they painted a sign of a cross

To the gods of their forefathers they asked for grace

And strength to bare the loss they could not efface

To Atieno he was the best husband she could ever ask for

To his children he was the best father they will always adore

To the villagers he was the best leader, a king they looked up to

As he took his journey to meet his maker

May he find a sit by the gods for his loving nature

They called for the spirits from east to west

And they prayed as he was laid to rest

-Edwin Onyango

A plea for redemption

I keep sinking in the ocean of pain

I keep drowning in the river of the same

I keep thinking that I will float again

I keep walking in the showers of blood rain

I keep trying to quench the blazing red flame

But I keep burning.  My tears rain in vain

I keep trailing to the end of a tunnel of shame

I keep hoping that the light at the end isn’t a train

But I am getting hit for my hopes are lame

I keep hearing mysterious voices in my sleep

Hands keep pulling me into darkness so deep

For my tormented soul in agony I weep

I keep praying to the spirits from the world beyond

I keep wishing and pleading with them to respond

To my cries and pull me out of this haunted pond 

-Edwin Onyango