Can soap get dirty? by Cynthia Kimani A.K.A ci-Kay

Can you hear me if you're deaf?
Can you feel me without touching me?
Stop confusing me by being straight forward

The freezing water you poured on me last night burned me
Your bruising words healed me
Your presence was unseen, simply invisibility
I found out hate from the love you gave me

From your heated atmosphere you still froze
My pain was numb to your still body
My screams sounded much like silence
But you were always there even if I tried to deny

I am alone but not by myself
Me, myself and I reside
Hold me tight and gentle
Give it to me all, but not too much

I’m sure but I still wonder
I want but do I need?
I had it, watched it go, run for it and just when I was about to catch it I let it drop
Can soap get dirty?

Cynthia Kimani.

Ci~Kay

3/11/2014.

MAINTAIN THAT AFRO- prayyzzz blog

We all have different styles and fashion sense. however one thing that stands out could be our hair. Ielow. was going through a friend's blog and he together with others have given a piece of their mind with regards maintaining the hair, Afro to be specific. have a look through this link below:

http://prayzzz.wordpress.com/category/fashion/

KENYA AT A GLANCE

To be true to ourselves, Kenyans over years has been seen as a nation with great development potential. The past week I was engaging in a debate (on a light note) with my Ugandan friends who seemed convinced that their country was better than mine and were boasting to me about their new electric car model made in Uganda. I felt challenged but that was before I went on Google and came across amazing statistics to my favor. In East Africa, including Burundi and Rwanda, Kenya tops the literacy level chat with a whopping 82% literacy rate. Besides that, the statistics showed that a Kenyan born from a poor family has the ability to do even better than their counterpart from a rich family in any of the other East African countries. These amazing facts among others put my head high throughout the rest of the argument and I felt like Alexander the great after conquering a number of nations; or to bring it much closer home, I felt like our cousin Barrack Obama after the confirmation that Osama Bin Laden had been gunned down…#LOL.

However the recent on-goings in the country have made me question either the facts I read about, or our realization of the same. Beyond Kenya was the ‘nanny from hell’ in Uganda who vent out her anger and frustrations at her boss’s innocent daughter and almost killed her. I will not say I am glad the girl’s daughter dealt with her mercilessly or else my Human Rights law lecturer will question my class attendance. And yes there was stripping in Mombasa and in Kayole and we made a big fuss about it and even took to the streets. Our beautiful Esther Passaris also rocked a mini-skirt and we all changed our statuses on whatsapp to #mydressmychoice. We made fun of it and usual the most rancorous mob in Africa KOT took this time to exercise and try their hand at graphic design with their numerous memes and hilarious picutures. For some time it was an argument as to who was to blame for the incidences. We questioned whether the women needed to be blamed for their dressing or was it the immorality of the men. I could hear some girls or is it women or ladies even question as to why men would do such when women do not interfere with their uncouth trouser sagging habits.

Today however I have been left in utter disgust and abhorrence at seeing how a woman was treated inside a bus. I did not get the whole story but from the video I could tell that the woman was probably forced into the bus and they did what they did.(WARNING!!Video with graphic content) I have lacked the right words but since I will post the video at the end of this piece then you will be keen to be your own judge. However two things struck me from the video, one; how on earth a man would stand seeing a woman get hurt, physically for that matter. Worse is that one had the guts to record it for fun’s sake. The men were pounding on her like hungry wild dogs on prey each wanting a piece of action on her. The girl’s screams were not good enough to secure her freedom. She was literally like a chick at the mercy of surrounding hawks. The men’s hands danced around her genitals like a pianist on his instrument. It was painful. It was agonizing. The most bizarre thing however  that caught my attention was on one of the attackers. Judging from the long sleeved michuki shirt he had on, he must have been the driver of the matatu. But that is not it; he had a wedding ring on. This was a guy who was presumably to go back to his wife that night, get a hot shower and probably after a sumptuous meal make passionate love to his wife ready for the next day’s hustle. If my religion allowed me to put it aside for a moment I would have dropped a bombshell of insults but how unfortunate, they would not be enough. Oh, and my religion apparently would not.

Then I realized a thing, there is no more content that needed debate anymore. It begged the question to me as to what the exact problem was. Is it our eroded value system? Wait, do we have a value system? What is its composition? Who defines it? For a second (probably more) my mind was in constant spin motion trying to wonder to what extent we have lost it. Are we that lost that there is no hope for redemption? Are we like a speeding Nairobi matatu towards the wrong direction? If there were to be any hope then from whence will it come from? Our society has become the Golgotha of humanity, just dry bones.  It dawned on me that we have been living a lie, the lie that our nation is coming together yet the only place we are together is when on our knees at  the mercy of self-destruction. It is the same irony of a kwashiorkor ridden child with a big belly just like that of a rich man on a nyamchom diet. Our society has lost its touch on humanity.

It is true that indeed women have also decided to dress in way that leaves very little for men to imagine but that is not a justification for rape. The world is now a den of lions and the earlier we realize that the better.  That video proved to me that unemployment is not the problem, idleness is. We could have jobs but literally nothing to do. That way we can close our offices at 5pm and still have the strength to be involved in such. This is now a battle of victims and opportunists exchanging buttons and unless the problem is dealt with from the roots then the noise and hullaballoo will only amount to verbal diarrhea whose stink will do nothing but block our reasoning and wit. We have to know that there is a class that appreciates brawn to brain. That there are a specific group of people we cannot reason with.

I will end with this, let us be critical and identify the underlying problem, do an in depth self-analysis and find out our individual and collective role in curbing the problems.

Giving a stellar presentation

I was going through some stuff on the net and i stumbled upon this and felt it would benefit a soul or two.

https://hbr.org/2014/11/how-to-give-a-stellar-presentation

my speech on 24th July 2014 on 'The African Success story'

This morning I woke up with a running stomach, running nose, then I realized one thing…I am Kenyan, everything in me is supposed to run.

That aside, the world cup was an exciting moment for at least most of us if not all of us. As men we found an undeniable excuse the get back home late. As for the ladies, well, they got an unwanted leave from their daily dose of soap operas. The men got to answer the hardest of questions ranging from “Why couldn’t Christiano Ronaldo play in the world cup finals, he is a good palyer, to why don’t they change the color of the ball change after every game, that one is so cliché.” Some even had to answer as to the question “why is Arsenal not playing in the world cup, I though it won the last world cup last month.” All in all it was a wonderful unforgettable experience.

I was privileged to watch the thrilling match between Cameroon and Brazil in which the latter won 4-1. In the course of the match amidst screams, yells and groans in form of elongated vowels- iiiiiiiiiiiiiii, eeeeeee, aaaaaaa and even new one I was taught by one Flavia Muhai, sssssss, i glanced at my good friend Tito and asked him which team he supported. Here came his response, “Of course Brazil.” At this point I interjected and asked the very question every Kamau, Wafula and Omondi would ask” How could you Tito?” It was a pain in my tushi  for quite some time and to be frank, I felt as if I had just developed a new set of wrinkles on my face. I felt like my portion of white…grey hair, you call it however you want, had just germinated on my head. He then pleaded that I let him finish what he had started but at this point I was burning with a feeling I could not explain. In my head was a myriad of thoughts, in my heart a constant flow of emotions. I thought,  is it that he is from Zimbabwe? No, actually not, Zimbabwe had never won the world cup. No, wait, it had never actually qualified for the African Cup of Nations. I was thinking and thoughting and wondering why a fellow African, probably darker than I am would choose to betray us to this extent.  He finally managed to squeeze in the remaining part of his disappointing words, he said “I support Brazil but I wish Cameroon all the best.”

My presentation today has a blank heading, intentionally so that you will know what to do with it.

That night I slept thinking, have we lost our touch as Africans? Have we totally lost hope in ourselves and our abilities? It dawned on me that we have proved to be completely satisfied by a mere mirage and have lost touch with the real tangible sensible piece of hope. It was clear to me that we have spent all our time trying to find ourselves and it was high time we start creating ourselves.

That if we are to move forward as a continent then we need to stop trying to reap where our past constantly tries to sow. We need to reach Canaan, the promised land, that place where despite paying the price of success and still go from failure to failure we will not lose our enthusiasm. If only we did everyday one thing that scares us, then in one year at least two things will be certain; we would have found 365 ways to succeed or 365 others that will not work out, either way success in both.  Someone said that that if you really want to do something you will find a way. If the inverse is true then you will find an excuse. Choose today who ye shall serve.

We Africans to some extend have become busy bodies with idle minds. We spend our time looking for Caro and looking for Johnny instead of investing the same time in trying to discover our God given purpose. Our minds have been trained to always ask for permission. Hear me loud and clear today, that at times in order to achieve success it is better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission if you know what I mean. By exploiting, in fact over exploiting our utmost potential we risk being not only being successful but begin becoming people of value. The sky seizes being our limit; it becomes a stepping stone to unlimited heights.

We have been so quiet in championing for this. Let me ask, what drives us? Is it the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide? Or is it the dire need to open up our hearts every morning we wake and aim to reach for the highest star? Think about it. From which barrel do we imbibe in? Think about it.

Then comes the greatest challenge, what is our biggest strength? The fact that we can do it or the fact that we are doing it? We have talent, international talent as others call it. Name them, Lorna Ruto, Obama, Origi, Nyong’o, and all others whose names begin or end with ‘O’. Truth is the few I have mention encountered a paradigm shift in their lives. They graduated from Yes We Can to Yes We Are. With time you will realize that ability and talent become the most useless virtue if not accompanied by the right attitude.

I am not a preacher so you can believe me when I say finally; let us remember that the fear of loving a brother, a sister should not drive us. We should instead come to the understanding that perfect love drives out fear. “wink”

my speech on 17th 0ctober- THE GRAND 'PANCER'

THE GRAND ‘PANCER’

Did you know that on this day, the 17^th of October in 539BC Cyrus the Great marched into the city of Babylon, releasing the Jews from almost 70 years of imprisonment? Did you also know that on this same day Albert Einstein fled Nazi Germany and moved to the United States? How many of you are wondering are wondering why these facts are important? Well that makes the two of us. Wait, I actually know what you are thinking about…what if Cinderella was the one to lose her man, what if that guy giving his speech about The Grand ‘Pancer’ wore that suit without shoes. Or you are probably thinking, what time is lunch time? Worry not, me too.

Today, as we mark the International Poverty Eradication day I do not wish to be benign and boring. I intend not to lull you into slumber or guttered complacency. My biggest task today is to slide in, hammer in or even just whisper to you that losing a future is not like losing an election or a few points on the stock market. It is not in other words but in the exact words that it is losing us and our off springs to us.

The truth is that in our world today, Africa, we are so poor that even the rich rob from the poor, the poor work for the rich and the beggars beg from their fellow beggars. More annoying truth is that we are cursed with expensive taste but no money. Ask Google if you think I lie, but one hard fact is that some people in the same world we live in are so poor that they get to 17 years old before they realize that people actually ate three meals a day. The danger we risk face is assuming that poverty is a personal affair while in actually sense it is and should be a public nuisance. Unless we begin to confront the underlying causes each step we take on the issue of poverty it will always quickly rise to bite us in our backs. It is the irony of the duck feeling it is none if its business when its cousin the chicken is being slaughtered not knowing it may be next in line.

Clearly, solving the menace of poverty is a huge task or else someone would have done it by now. The biggest mess we put ourselves in is our misplaced priorities. Did you know that conditions such as baldness and erectile dysfunction have received more funding than our killer tropical disease #Ebola. You know drugs are not made to treat the poor and the unfortunate victims of Ebola have been the poorest. And yet we keep waiting for a miracle from the west. Ebola only matters to the west now that it knocks at their front door. The only solution they have is travel bans and restrictions. Convalescent therapy has shown to work and this we can do ourselves. What are we still waiting for?

We face the undented virus in our systems of identity crisis. We as a continent need to start looking within. That way we will be able to see our potential and put to halt the massive loot from the west among other pointers of the global compass. Did you know that many of the advanced medical technology had its roots or rather was plagiarized from the native African witchdoctors? If you think about this, did you know that even mini-skirts originated from Africa? This absurd dependency mentality does not lead to any positive distinction, only to our extinction.

In Uganda men are complaining about how the condoms sold to them are very small. Kenyans are on rampage on twitter about who is more sexually appealing between Vera Sidika and Huddah Monroe. In Zimbabwe youth are idle on the street holding discussions around the subject “Riddim is in prison with Vybs Kartel’. While we argue about whether Uhuru Kenyatta should go to The Hague or not, a young boy and his nine month old sister have succumbed to death due to hunger. As we worry about how many times Agwambo was caned in Kilifi, an old man not his grandpa, may be not yours is pushing his almost dead and beat body to a drying water source. As our trusted or not law makers travel to go shout to the top of their lungs in the streets of Netherlands a teenage girl from Turkana is using cow dung in place for sanitary towels, a middle aged man is feeding his wife urine from his camel because he has no water. Let me  introduce you to Koffi Annan who says that a hungry man is not a free man.

TYPICAL KENYAN WOMAN LOOKING FORWARD TO LIFE

If we embraced the culture of using what we have then we definitely would not be in the same position we are in. Take an example of the boy in Kakamega who invented his own aircraft. He still languishes in poverty still looking for sponsors to take him to school. Maybe Pesa Mfukoni…sorry, Pesa Mashimoni…I mean, Pesa Mashinani will help him.

We need to uproot the thinking of those that do not mind the welfare of others. The reason why both the government and opposition appear to be so inept and bungling this poverty issue is because they are both lying through their teeth.  It is like a sci-fi movie wherein the evil government lies to the people until the outbreak is spiraling out of control.

I am only an unemployed law student and I do not have all the solutions but neither do you. Unless we promote national, regional and even international cohesion then we may moving forward on reverse gear. How about instead of the USA-Africa summit, we have an Africa-USA summit! We need to recognize our growth, devolve it and learn to sustain it.

We also need to be our brothers’ keeper. Every year millions are spent by charities to try and end poverty and nothing ever changes. Should we accept and move on or should we call for a referendum…or simply just try harder? The truth is that alongside our individualism, there is something else inside, a belief that we are all connected as one people. We need to get rid of the shoes of selfishness and self-centeredness. So in solidarity today let us all remove our shoes. Go on, do not be shy, it’s the first step.

SHARING IS DEFINITELY CARING

THE QUANTUM OF THE BROKEN PIECES

The derailed frail on the walking corpse left of me begs no question; I am as wasted baggage, chaff, equivocally condemned to my own hell, chocking in my own spit and drowning in my own sweat. I am a lost kitty, with tiny prickly sounds that are swallowed by the hoots and horns in a busy street. It is as though I lack spiritual and mental affluence to drive my thinking mechanism. I know I need to think, and fast for that matter but about what is what I seemingly fail to figure out. Judge me or not, the thorn is stuck to my flesh, the chili in my eyes and my fate left to the passing wind. I am on highway left to choose between chasing after the wind or sit and let it slap my face. I can move though motionless. I can dream though thoughtless. I can't eat though my stomach is full. And if I had a fairy tale wish, my first would be that I get the week's sleep I lacked.
This is the story of a hunter being the hunted. The story of the tutor failing the test, the reborn story of a fallen Goliath. Shoot me I say, if it will carry me from my misery. Unplug my heart from my chest and prove to me that it still exists. This is the perfect story of a fisherman tangled in his own net. The true forbisen of being the author of my own misfortunes. Could this be the ragnarok of my time? Could this be leading me to a solace mayhem, pain and shame? Did I just create a gallery of distress? So giants do fall? Someone actually said that the bigger they are the harder they fall. I must have been a big one. I must have conquered quite a lot to hit the ground this hard.
All I am left with is my dear wishful thinking. My encaphalon has been reduced to that of a chick in the hands of its prey. I seek mercy amidst profound judgement. I bear a cross that I needed not but have to carry alone. My pulse is uncontainable. At times it beats so fast I can hear it but not feel it. My ring back memories are wanting. Save for my mixed up thoughts, I cannot feel myself breath. I am like a slave looking forward to salvation. I am like an insect trapped in a glass, I see perceive it, I see it, I just cannot touch it. I am like a cockroach turned upside down, kicking and trying to turn, shouting to the top of my lungs but with not even a deaf ear to land on. It is like my light is getting dimmer by the second. I am like a rose flower inside a toilet. I am like a matchstick amidst dry grass with nothing to light me. I the warrior has been left with a broken shield, nothing to attack with. I have been left in a lonely street with no one to share my thoughts with. I have been left to the mercy of hungry dogs. I am like hay to a horse, like a servant to a boss. My head is green sick, sick and tired of being kicked around. It has been a few days but it bangs so loud in my head like eternity. Treat me I dare you. Heal me I pray to you. Mend me I ask of you.  It seems like pushing a wall. It seems like trying to pull out my own neck. It is painful yet so true. I feel like a sailor in a sinking ship. I am like a slipper with no strap, nothing to hold onto. Like an iron box with no heat, like a balloon with no air. My world has come to an unprecedented stand still. My eyes are shut yet very wide open. My tongue is stuck out yet my mouth remains closed. My mind is blogging yet I have nothing to say. My ears are in pain from a screeching I cannot hear or see. I have a stomach that still cannot stomach all this. My legs are cold and dry, they cannot stand this. I thought I saw a way but I am now at crossroads. Can anyone hear me? Is anyone home? I'm I fighting a losing battle? I'm I still the same strong invincible one, the envy of the neighborhood and town? Show me a sign. It is good enough for now. Drop me a dime, let my eyes shine. Breath life into my lungs once again. Light a fire beneath my feet, let me walk on it. Let me feel again what it is to live again. Let me enjoy the the taste of free will again. Let me race back to the top once more. Give me a new beginning. Lead me through a new path. My knees wobble like jelly. My eyes on the telly. My belly grumbles. Is it gas? A curse? I have thrown my chances right under the bus. Now I feel like trash. My teeth now repeatedly hit each other, like a cow I now gnash.

It couldn't be worse. The very treasure I held dear to my heart is the same I let go. The very pulse of my heart is the one I took for granted. I want to be left alone now, alone to my misery. But this cup be so much for me. This loneliness is consuming me to the core. This desire to hold that special person close to me is overwhelming. The sweat dripping on my back is so hard. It pierces through my skin, to my spine to my backside, my thighs. The pressure rests under my feet and I am left with no option. The very girl that swept me off my feet is the very one I brought from her feet. It feels bad to know that someone's heart bleed because of me. That someone's mind is at utter unrest because of my actions. Help me, help her more. Turn her tears to joy, her sorrow into profound happiness. Create her first because my world is meaningless without her in it. Give me another chance not because I deserve it but because she deserves to be happy. U know it is her that my heart beats for. It is her lips that mine long for. It her touch that my skin craves for. Have you seen how she looks at me? How she smiles when she thinks of me? How deep down in her heart her love for me still exists. I cannot face her for sure. I am not bold enough to speak to her. None of my words could replace the disappointment in her face, but I know you are watching. Up from your enthroned seat down to her heart you still see. I bank on your promise today that you will never leave me or forsake me. I honestly do not know how to conclude this because I do not know how I started but please let her read this, even if not today, let her know that there came a time I made a mistake and regretted it. Let her know I am sorry. Let her know that I became stronger. Let her know that she is loved dearly. Thank You Lord