For now, the human is born a slave - only free,
A growing collection of charms and little secrets of Africa and its people, carefully unveiled using poetry and free verse. Read once, read twice, relive the experience for ever.
For now, the human is born a slave - only free,
This piece was inspired by one home, which against a backdrop of increasingly urban neighborhoods, right in the middle of Addis Ababa, seemed to me as strikingly queer. I've been looking at the home from the window of my office cubicle, for almost a month now, and today, having nothing better to do, decided to attempt immortalizing its legacy (even better).
"Jajja, I'm dying, and don't feel the presence of God in me anymore!"
Have you asked yourself why this might be so?
"Yes, but I can't seem to find any useful answers!"
(there's a pause, and the wind seems to be saying something above the shrine...)
You are not creating anything anymore, and so, you are dying!
"I don't understand"
The only way to be alive, and to experience the divine in you,
Is to be creative - to do something new, to bring into life an idea, a piece of art, a lie, a joke, anything!
"But, I don't know... I don't know what to create! And, no one seems to like what I do anymore,
Actualy, no one has ever liked anything that I ever created!"
But, don't you recall, that even when no one liked anything you created,
But as long as you weren't just consuming and being passive in life,
That you not only were relevant to yourself, but also felt vital and alive?
"Sure! You are right!"
Then, go pick the clay outside...
(returns with a bowl of black clay)
Okay, then spend some times making something, anything your mind compels you to try.
"As in, anything?"
Yes. That's where you'll find true healing, that's how you'll reclaim your divinity.
(two hours later.. she's made a heap of small, meaningless balls with eyes in them)
How do you feel?
"Happy and relaxed!"
You have found God then. Don't forget this:
The moment God stops creating, it ceases being God.
You are only as divine, as vital, as you are creative.
Anything less than this, and you are dying or dead already.
"Thank you Jajja!"
Now go be productive with your life, or you'll loose it.
334 days, have I walked this land, in which echoes of a not-so-distant glory from the past still chime in the ear - an unbearable pain sometimes, but a good excuse to trust that hope is still a valid thing to cling-to in this part of the motherland.
There are two types of people here (three, if you count me in) - both are disgruntled, and exhibit scars of having been abused - you can tell these by their indifference to the mentioning of the word "Africa" - they trust that theirs, Ethiopia, is an entirely different story in the drastic plot of what's become of our dear motherland. The one is a zombified loyal citizen, who sees no hope of ever changing things, and who trusts that things ought not be changed - the minister is their god, and he hates the prayers of his subjects, so out of piety and hopelessness, they pray no more (even though the cathedrals and streets are all adorned with crucifixes and more - symbols of slavery indeed - all their hopes crucified for eternity) - they do speak in the sanctuaries though.
The other strolls on the cold pavements every night or early in the morning, facing one direction always - the north. His arms and feet embrace the air, while his thoughts have long been blown to those distant, alien lands mentioned in tales sent back home by kin that managed to secure their own enslavement in America or some Scandinavian state - dreams of being a slave in gold-clad chains. A slave in exile, rather than suffer under the savagery of their own draconian monarchs or the stealth neocolonialist that eats at their heart like a predatory ghost.
They both hate Africa, and even more, hate the color of their own skin. Luckily, most of them almost look colored - but they'll never be white, except in color. I pity our race.
So, what's happened here? I've heard tales of disllusioned folks - trusting that they won the liberties of being free a long long time ago (yes, endlessly citing how great a nation they are, having defeated their Italian masters), while under different cloaks, they worship the Roman gods, eat their food and cling to their crosses. Meanwhile, only a fledging few even recall that there used to be a time when the Sun shone so as to give light. And no, there's no liberty here.
Orthodox. It's the name of their prevailing spiritual chorus, and it's impressed itself so deeply unto them, even the Catholic denies the existence of a world other than this. I've wanted to disrupt things sometimes - and I have tried, but no, their eyes were plucked out sometime near birth, and now they only see the world through the words of their priest, and what the single hypnotist claims the world ought to be - and they have succeeded! How ignorance can comfort the poor!
On the one hand, there's a nation mushrooming with sky-scrappers and blitz, while on the other, often behind closed doors, tears spice the single meal for the day - a stale piece of bread, as bare hands reach to a mostly vacant plate, in search of the promise that there will still be life when the night ends. This is the one country I know in Africa, where poverty of the mind has been properly hidden away from the prying eyes of the visitor - thanks to the cloaks of an uninspiring native dialect, and where heist is openly glorified with immense capitalist monuments that speak of the sacrificial nature of the pecking order here. Machiavelli would be a happy man on this island.
The girls are beautiful, so physically beautiful. Lo! Did beauty suffer and rot away once you managed to peer behind the shinning veil. Shallow minds, missing dreams, and haunting insecurities. The princess fears the monster, but the monster managed to lodge itself inside of her already, and it's eating her from within! Beauty needs a hero, but who would save these damsels, when they wish themselves into slavery? Their wells are adorned with gold, but the taps offer not even an ounce of water at all! Oh mother, please summon the fertility goddess to return to this land... the flowers look pleasing, but their scent is absent, and where there's one, it's repugnant!
Now I have to go. Maybe I'll return some day. I've breathed of their air, eaten of their food, tasted of their history and slept in their embrace, but have to go home still. It's not a palace that I return to, but it's undoubtedly a better jungle - one with fresher trees, birds still singing, children that smile, and dreams that become things. I'll return to the place where we still look to the Sun with pride, and where the moon evokes the mother in all her forms. To heal all Africa, that's my dream, and so, I'll definitely return to this island some day, with a potion that will purge Abyssinia of its silent, but lethal plague. Have to go, fast, or I'll fall sick pretty soon!
Oh, and before I let go, if you must know, this plague, under many colors, is the same disease we have to purge out of all of Africa! Such a big BIG war to fight... but we'll recruit, fight, rite, and write - one warrior at a time, until at last, united as one, we'll form a terrible army of black warriors, that will arise from the darkness of night, to restore the Sun over this black motherland. Once more, shall our flowers bloom, the trees thrive, the rivers flow and the spirits of Enkya Ya Enkya or those of Ra, freely flow across their own land, nourishing and guiding our great intellects.
People argue, they feel agitated by the thought that a man could get all his fortune, and invest it in a piece of rock.
Sourcerous One, send green unto him.
The rain welcomes him.
The water welcomes him.
The cows welcome him.
The dogs welcomed him.
The goats gray for him.
But the people.
Fire dwells on inside.
Heads on fire, thirst threatens.
Merciful One, bring water to thine Temple.
Sawed the fat master;
Who can dwell alone;
A dog or a goat?
I said, I wait!
Please, am coming...
Yes, I have seen the coming.
Happiness forever, fuck!
It's in the name. It matters.
Baptisms every moment
Birthdays that happen every Fucking day.
Clicking on the Visor of an Aelin Machine.
You have taken so long to come.
Am too horny, I would rip you apart like a nail.
I want to lick you. Click you, Aelin Machine!
I shall give voice to you.
Speak my words.
Drink the Milk.
T, all I could ask for in a flower
Carefully crafted, delicately packed
I've eaten petals that have no hue, and
Did they taste like the pinkest silks
Am Sikh, the sting from a star's bite
Oh, tell me now
How, how could something so good
Crown a hell so dark?
Guide me on, wet valleys and slippery hills
Am climbing there, have to cling there!
We enters the cave that harbors delights
And as angels feast with daemons,
Moans of innocence and surrender combine
I've found Reign!
Came from On High!
A glowing egg fell from the heavens
Colors unbounded, it had a magnetic feel to it-
Causing every other thing to get character, while itself
stayed put, abiding by no other creed except that from without.
Maidens sit close to it, enjoying the warmth it radiates
As recipes from the meadows of antasia get passed around.
Oh, I've seen it, I've been there!
Happiness and seduction, while the alien's egg glows!
Oh, perhaps miracles are too big of a claim, but witness it I did-
I've met her, resurrected from the dead; Hope!
She looked younger, came riding on the moon,
All the remedy I needed to escape from the Sahara's long grip on me!
Grays were near, but she carried something familiar-
Resty's allure and chilled seduction!
Carrots in the meadows, clouds below mountains
The rain came to the scene!
Silent rapture, moments I tried to capture
I'd whispered names of the rest already
But no, she wasn't haunting
Together, we went hunting for lost fruits
And there was many of them to devour!
Mashed tangerines, mellow gray melons
Lemons with chocolate felonies
Raw coconut milk and flying pineapples!
We rode the river with passion too
A little thanks to providence,
And the garden suddenly came back to life!
Have I been lied to?
What's the future, if we already died yesterday?
It's post resurrection, but am not sure if everyone is alive with us
The atmosphere is promising, but things don't look good yet
We've burried and swept out the terrible past, but what does today bring?
If we had to do just one other major work, what would that be?
Build and sell profitable machines.
Smart Phones, Smart Batteries and Robots!
But, there are also strange things I've seen;
Chargers that drain the phone to 1, only to push it back to 100!
Batteries that charge without contact
Letters read without being opened
Cows that feed on electricity
Bricks that are bigger than the buildings they build
Trees that smoke
Cats that bury people
And many other strange things!
All, on this place called Liberty Village.
The phone just melted in my hands
A voice once cold, stole a fire from beyond
Somehow, Sam how? There was heat on the broadbands!
She's bringing me soup and bathing oil
D, dial that delicate dribbling number again
Oh, see? There's so much pleasure again!
Come, don't calm now!
I had to cross my legs
Wondering if she's the one that kept my peg.
There'll be two bones when we meet
She'll bite the one stained with
Chocolates of later day saints!
Fuck, I went out for an evening walk the other day,
guessing what I found?
Roads form when you visit new places
There was a whole procession of vigilant faces at every other turn - kids doing home work, bikes racing in sync
Old folks with smiles that said, "we not being left behind!"
A nymph with a pumpkin I've not seen traded before, trapped me so early in my explorations; I lascivious and I oblivious guiding our chariots on... nothing but getting lost!
I followed them - young and full of energy, till night consumed the sun.
"Now, who's goats are those?"
I was boiling by the time darkness set
Compelled to keep walking, thanks to a tercet of god-friends trekking with me then.
Diversions on hills overlooking unending gardens of May-riding maize, formed mazes I attempted to negotiate without aid - Oh! I ended up at this unforgettable turn;
She only wore a mock of a toga, wrapped carelessly about her, as she squatted tending a tiny pan crowned with banana leaves, a disproportionately enticing fire consuming the metal like ferocious salamanders on heat.
I'd carried some firewood of my own; from trees that speak wisdom, sometimes stealing life without strife. I had to make a fire too! Just couldn't resist the shimmering scene, uninvited, I invited my self first-
Just a "Hello," and we was party.
Two kids watching, nude to the eye, dressed in smoke and shadows hiding the piercing vigilance of their mother's flame.
What's the other one?
Didn't hesitate to fall in... She was like the witch you can't be lucky to encounter without shades - a savage that's worrisome to befriend, but a seductress hard to untangle from, and the way she bent over the flames? Spineless!
I had to touch her, even as she chose to do the strange...
Sparked anew, I shot into the unknown...
(meaning the GPS was dodo)
Woke up minutes later; conjugal thoughts suspended, replaced by a zeal to raid and teach a night class at a local school that's regal; a noble act that once committed, got immediately tainted illegal!
It was a campus I'd never been to, but the pupils - boys and girls they, ate and smiled with me, as I ushered in a distant future without excuse!
Original mission? Inspire and Break Ice, with or without fights!
I did walk straight past the Off-ice-
Logical, but not to the ones I walked past!
(A lesson later accepted - always take the fire to the Office for that's where the ice needs to be melted first!)
I was to them, and their caretakers thunderstruck;
A terror from a fantasy impossible to unbelieve;
Black umbrella, sly tense, I also had that barbaronous vibe on... blame it on the wyrd co-pilots I was flyinz witj!
I was being exorcised, (forgets the name of militant pastor)
Such a lovely moment as I also got the liberty to hurl infernal aves and diabolical einvocations at them in dire anticipation of what could ensue!
Haha! First time I wish this were being televised!
Overly exercised, visibly fine roast
By the time I got evicted -
It had to be a true SWAT team!
On a speedy-bumpy military truck floor o raw low unforgettable ride we rolled!
Far from the Book-Bukaya-for-Fire, past Bug-Carry-A-Bag-Bugabo, all the way to the great beyond Garuga!
They carried big guns, breathing not I sensed, but they were.
(( in the future, I would ride on these trucks for profit ))
More than a dozen hours later... I'd gotten my second jail experience in life. Fuck.
No, I wasn't even dreaming of Kampala anymore
Trapped inside some unjazzified cooler,
somewhere in Mpala, I couldn't fantasize about impalas no more - too many squitos and jarring thoughts to fend off all night!
Did I get to this peak myself?
Blame it on the...
No, am out and safe ;-)
Nu ZeiZay Adventures continues...
Not 1, but 3 Nubian girls have showed up somewhere as I am walking about NuChwezishire.
They are the liveliest creatures I've met today; tall, beautifully dark and visibly bold as rocks. It is such a sight to behold!
Oh, and how gracefully they sing!
Amokia is the most adorable of them; singing with vigour and sweetness combined, in a manner impossible to express in words. She also enjoys breaking ice.
Jumping, I said jumping!!!
They can easily turn a lion into a puppy!
She has an ass as attractive as hardened margarine bound to steel and dressed in a mercurial draping.
Oh, she's caused my spirit to get as stiff as a tower!
"Can I hold you more or just wait till we get to the shower?"
They're coming again.
I'll be with them I swear!!