Monthly Archives: December 2018

PEN AND PAPER; Sketches from my past(pepa)

Pen and paper,they say,the source of all knowledge(I used to think it was the fear of God though),the route of growth.Pen and paper,the pace of success,pen and paper,all the foundation you would ever need,I wonder what happened to concrete and mortar though.Pen and paper,I see it now,looking all decisive,all creative and even pre-emptive.

Pen and paper,the sound of sweet relief.If only I knew,when teacher stressed and never relented,to the extent of rod in hand and in most rare cases,ruler to the edge,it was 30cms,I still recall to date,in retrospect,sounds like the edge of a sword.

As trail goes,O may I not loose myself in thoughts clayed in reflections of days past…let not a replay button get lost,all go so fast and fade like a cloud,so high and lofty you can’t attain unto it,let alone fight or in any case beat it.Those memories linger of the Mrs. leaning on the table’s edge,pin-stripped blouse and a blue crispy skirt,they couldn’t do pencils ‘cuz they was teachers.

My trail runs wide so may I not,in memory lose path,or outside classroom stray.As the mind wanders right out the door of class,to the sound of break-time bell,ring ring it goes,harsher than that of bleating eyes stray outside into the view of children running out,clad in beautiful beige shorts and checked brown shirts,who even thought of such a uniform?

Well,in lost thoughts,my stomach rumbles,making me aware of the inadequacies there before;not that it did with much but it couldn’t contain the thought of fresh-calling breakfast milk smell.And not that I would get a share ;- I am in class three,these days they called grade,hahaha the dynamics of www. A big boy as it is,the teachers said.If only my brain was as equally big and could smell beyond the warm kindergarten milk into tomorrow,into the future,into true beauty,for only beauty could save the beast huh,into…..”John,John!!!”

The teacher’s voice wakes me from my straying thoughts. YES MA’AM,a deep stare and a realisation that my wandering mind needs relief.So for once and contrary to relative trend I am let loose to my wiles.

So pen and paper finds hole of refuge,becomes solace of the heart,ceases to be a spit of ink through the tip of a draining nib.Pen and paper stops being a means to an end,no longer a means to employment but accentuates into the employment itself.

Pen and paper it is,the beauty of warmth,like a heartbeat of its own,flowing from the elements hence finding a home and resting in a heart.

Pen and paper joins with the soul creating union in form of habitation.Pen and paper,pen and paper.The flow ceases and beauty takes control,she takes root and a flower is born.Pen and paper,no longer is it the caress of a nib upon the lines of whiteness,she grows into actual tenderness and caress of the heart,soul and mind.

Pen and paper,so pen and paper takes route and grows roots deep down into the rocks almost hitting bottom and thus sets course for the laying down of foundation.And just at the brink of failure plus loss of contact,a real connection with reality,there she gains ground and maintains focus.

The noise all around escalates to dumb founding and she almost gets lost in her own thoughts,all muffled up by the shouts,screams and more so the discouragement without.

So from point of confusion and plying the edge of discouragement,she sips of the juice of failure,of mistakes undertaken and of the dirt of the ground.She lets all that juice right through her broken roots,right up her perforated shoots and soon failure lays foundation of strong stamina and unwavering stems,though beaten and shaken.

Soon failure grows from discouragement into encouragement.She grows into hope and her flowers into the ultimate scent of victory.The same flowers rooted in failure attracts the bees of recognition creating and aroma of prosperity.

The noises that screamed her down now rejoice or are they screaming for recognition?

And so pen and paper must not loose her cool nor focus for she knows,she knows her roots were bedded in the discouragements hence only humility can hold those foundations together.

Pen and paper….

A BREED OF LOVE, the growth within. (Pen&paper)

See am sleepy,see am sound,sound asleep or sound of noise?Is it noise of proof or is it sound of proof?See at times I loose my cool and then it comes I come unfound,Unfound in mind and lost in goal,because am so filled with thoughts,thought all wide and all around….

A song in school that makes me cool,a rhyme in heart could help me spool,spool all pain that feigns to wane.Praying not in vain for vain through vein could mean am sane.

Proof of life sure needs not a knife,to cut through vein ‘cuz that’s a feign,a feign through tough and difficult pain….


BREAK THE CHAINS-The wonders beyond the eyes (Pen&paper)

Did I just build a box and in it boxed myself,thus limiting my creator to the same,having no bounds beyond and above?Did I create a bubble of my own out of all the expanse reality has,therein forming a wall which on breaking left me exposed?

Did I for a moment overlook all possibilities and capabilities bestowed unto me that were able not only to speak into the darkness and get out the light but also toss and topple mountains into the sea?

I look now and see so clearly,crystal could not match and vision takes note;all along my limits have been my chains,my mind my prison and my testimonies so negative they take centre rule as my prison guards with an honour from my actions as the bars of steel…bars I must hold onto everyday and never be able to break.

A wise one is jotted down in history,spoken of by the great I Am;”The power of life and death I give unto you..”the same wisdom goes on to advice that you choose life..So tell me how will you choose what you have not?So the same wisdom chooses to put your choices right within your grasp,giving the power to the control of your tongue-(that great master and destroyer).Hence the power of life and death I now reckon,was put within my lips.

Let us hold it up for a moment and look at your possibilities.Did you for a moment limit Him who gave you so much power over all that He had spent ample time,thought and energy to create?Did you manage to fit Him within the confines of your circumstances?Was He that small?

Why were the possibilities to work for so much more,enabled by Him,get held hostage by your laziness to take that bold step of courage embodied in faith?Were you too scared to let Him work through you?Did you fear all credit would go to Him and you would only swim in the beauty?I too am proud and my pride gets the better of me….looking back I now see the difference…the difference that my pride in place of humility works not for me but against me…

Pen and paper gets relentless and questions on and on so let us listen on and see if she has a point…

When He said,”Ask of me and see if I will not give up the nations as your inheritance and the ends of the earth as your possession.” Was this only said of the patriarchs or was His word not to last unto generations in eternity?

Pen and paper,did she ask too many questions?Eats me up and crawls under my skin most times as well.These questions still remain vital though if freedom gets handed to me freely yet my mind holds reign unto the chains of mine own entanglement -propels me to Rapunzel the fairy character entangled in her own hair,how dramatic that Chris darling,sorry prince charming has to come kiss her out of her mess.

So before pen and paper takes leave of rest,just a few nags won’t gag so let us clear the air and play fair with yet one two or few quizzes.

When He created and so formed the heavens and the earth,were the heavens limited to the blueness above our heads or did it spread out into the galaxies?Allow me to think that if His majesty and dominion spreads out into the span of never ending then He sure has hidden all glory in creation,right?

Take a moment,take a breath,a man once sang saying,”This ain’t a song for the broken hearted,” he woulda sang out loud and raised his voice.In the same loud voice I will resound those sentiments,that these ain’t words for the ones with no faith but a world of realisation for the bold in faith.

A sound mind thus gets summoned,to take a bold step and walk out of the chains of our limitations that hold hostage the mind,breaking free from the prison of our surrounding,thus setting forth the victory of proclamation and the roll of action-the core backbone of faith.

As one rocked it up in reggae beats of black people being freed,he atticulately notes that they gotta be freed from mental shackles:-

“free up black people,live up black

a inna jail house dem wah fi lock

people,mental shackles and chain

inna brain dem trap people..”

So till you free your mind and see the possibilities of His creation at work within you,envision the extent of His might in you then brother,oh sister,mother,did I mention papa and granny?yeah you ain’t lived yet if you in a prison within yourself.

Need I add more?pen and paper is freed and takes a leap off the chains.


THE SKETCHES OF LIFE:the pieces we are so ashamed of.

Pen and paper;

Let me introduce you to the sketches,the frames,the stretches or is it the stretchmarks?Childhood scars,broken dry lips,blistered hands and in most cracked heels,blemishes across the face and spots so many you could rarely identify the actual face.

A struggle with make-up and lipstick,a dig deep into the pockets to cover the infirmities of the eye…distended bellies and in some with unrivalled folds and markings to rhyme…a distension on the triceps and a balance from heavy-flabbed biceps…dimple-filled thighs and chopstick legs and in some cases called toothpicks or a certain tribe’s origin…

Did I loose anyone in my wile of pains and sorrows?In my wake comes along dozens of bow-legs or say uneven feet to match.Did I mention mis-aligned eyes in others larger than some,others bear forked teeth making the look more accomplished.

A combination of hillariousness an utter disbelief yet the same same recipe of beauty,a completion of perfection…say my big bulbous nose…aaaah..don’t I just love the illusion?

Check out that abnormally big forehead,dammn dude,ain’t you a Kenya bus,because with that big a head you could carry us …Sounds funny I know,but damn sick if you ask me.

We call them deformities,He calls it His image and likeness.We call them imperfections,He calls it the ultimate perfection of beauty,the wonder of His creation.We look away from them in shame and dismay,He looks at it in awe and wonder….He said,it is beautiful..

A crippled leg,a short hand or non at all,bulbous big eyes and in some non at all.All these serve to put the universe in balance,say if we all had eyes then you would never understand the pain of lack-of as portrayed in those without….imagine not looking at all the wondrous things around us for a day,or a week,a month?what of forever??

Still we have eyes but see not for our hearts are blinded from beholding and shewing mercy and love to them that need it most..see we have ears but can’t hear the cry of those in need or pain and need our help…we turn a deaf ear or a blind eye…the nature and way of the lost.

We will throw away lots of left-overs we needed not but chose to waste due to over-indulgence forgetting the soul that lacks and would do with as little as morsels or crumbs off our sumptuous tables filled with flattery and little love …fallen to the floor,it still serves to fill an empty yearning,doesn’t it?

Now to the other side of the bank…change the perception,ignore the physique then take a dive into life,perceive the form and take in the whole creation as you sink into beauty,hidden so deep within it takes the eyes of love to behold it.

So did we pass judgement in the name of decadence?make conclusions because we lacked true eyes to behold true beauty?or lack ears to hear that Him who created us created them also,that male and female created He them and blessed them?Did our thoughts and judgements become only an affirmation of our own inner unrendered insecurities propelled by a perceived target to our inadequacies?

How and when did we miss the beautiful sight of the sketches of life embodied in out perceived imperfections?Did we just go blind in our envisioning of real art?When did we loose our feet,though intact to our bodies yet far from the true walk of life that lies along the path of love?When did we loose our hands in the actual essence of giving or did they just grow short due to lots of greed?

So let us take that much needed pause,the psalmist calls it Sellah because we have to ponder,meanwhile we can dust off the cobwebs within our minds that blur our vision of His amazing beauty marring our perception of the actual sketches that intrinsically join together to complete the persons we are hence affirm the lives we live…days of our lives huh?just like sand through the hourglass so are they perfected by the author and perfector of our faith.

Behold the sketches of life embodied in life’s real joy,beauty and love,a love deep within the heart seen and sought out only by the Creator’s eye.The sketches grow into perfection,they are amazing imperfections made perfect and complete in the love and wholeness of God

The sketches of life
Pen and paper (PEPA)


A walking or working nation?is it in my position to solve the puzzle or did I just hand the trigger to my death into the hands of an unconcerned citizen?…In stakes much higher than me,elevated by my single thoughtless cast marred by my lack of reason,and the utter choice of sound of language over voice of language?..sound of which translates to dialect and utter tribe whilst voice chooses to reason.

Did I in my blindness turn deaf ear to thought and fulfilled the famous words that said,”you have eyes but see not and have ears but hear not..”? Hence deciding that hornbill’s problem was hornbill’s problem?For those in my generation you will understand that when hornbill-the long-beaked bird was in pain,the whole forest ignored her pleas for help…the wise ladybird warned that hornbill needed to be helped but the mushroom right under the mighty baobab together with the snail nestling under her shadow said that hornbill’s problem was hornbill’s problem.

A hunter tired from hunting to no avail passes through the dense forest and is attracted by the quacking hornbill..lucky day it is and hornbill is shot down falling next to the mushroom…”and this mushroom would make great soup for the delicious meal am about to have,”quipped the hunter,”and is this a snail for the salad?” So mushroom gets uprooted and snail picked for dinner..”and how will I carry these?” Aaah beautiful leafy banana right across the groove and lianas to wrap all these up…and a chop on the baobab branches would make great firewood.

Long narration shortened,hornbill’s problem was never hornbill’s problem but the whole forest’s problem…and now our working nation,sorry working nation…I mean walking nation…

If the ballot should bring hope,somebody define for me hope in an economy where I will ballot you in as a “thuraku”,fuel your guzzler,as small cars are not presentable,and still you deny me my means of transport..rather say I can only come this far,walk the rest of the distance while when you needed my vote you could send the same transport right to my doorstep and drop me at the ballot box to vote you in?..How am I able to pay the same taxes that should feed you,your family and lavish lifestyle?…ouch,did you just bite and curse the finger that feeds you?

Did you just become the proverbial tortoise who called the hawk’s underside smelly when only she could carry her yonder to fetch food in a time of hunger and starvation?

So let’s take a pause,how does mama mboga from Syokimau get to Marikiti near CBD(matatus dont get there and there was no memo to buy bigger buses before the ban came through)to buy nyanya,hoho and dhania,did I mention the bike guy who was banned from entering CBD yet the registered motorbike can deliver brocolli and lettuce to that upmarket restaurant? But mama mboga doesn’t eat at Java or Cjs just to mention…

Oooh and Njuguna wasn’t able to put food on the table this evening as mama mboga din’t deliver enough stock today if nothing at all…and even if there was stock how could he manage to get to Industrial area without using a taxify or uber and still save something for dinner so something had to give,his job or dinner…

Woe unto you if you din’t report to Singh’s workplace due to lack of transport for there is no pay by end of day…so are all thuraku’s walking alongside the other guys?just asking…and now who is carrying who or who fooling who?we all in the same predicament..who is buying from the shops along Moi avenue if they have to take uber to the outskirts of CBD?

Did pen and paper insult anyone now?O pen and paper most times lacks manners especially when she is in pain of truth.

Surely real change happens only after biting and paining but is this bite and pain unidirectional?

Pen and paper must thus shut up and let the flood errode right from atop the hill down to the river.No gulley will be missed unless a terrace is built..a terrace with intent and heart strong enough to admit that hornbill’s problem is our problem and thus singular “thuraku” must turn into a plural singular “us” and “I” can nolonger stand on her own…

Pain cannot be let to go any deeper than she has already…and let us realise the fact that every mouth and thought counts even if it only depends on teardrops….

Pen and paper.

THOUGHTS THROUGH THE NIGHT…;The sketches of pain.

The crack of dawn,the grizzly darkness gives way to the light of day,the rays in the horizon,evening taken over by night and night giving way to light of day,a beautiful exchange,a producer’s perfection in plot and style;a flow of time and tick of the seconds….

Yet the trail of thoughts through the night lingers on and lurks into the morning,but a new dawn is here as darkness…that grizzly darkness is taken over by rays of the morning master,the beautiful star they say,closest to mother earth and the perfection of God’s creation in the heavenly bodies.

So thoughts through the night…the ruminations and constant tossing and turning may no longer have hold,may finally loose grip as I am reminded from the clouds heavy and mighty giving way to the strong attempt of the sun rays to bring light to day and pave way to grace;to mercies unlimited….and hence all the pains and sorrows,the depressions and uncertainities,the consternations and all that worry of today from last night loose their grip to a mightier more potent hope,a hope that the ghosts of last night cannot attain unto,a hope of today,an assurance of grace brought to life by the very master of arts himself;Him who through the night slept not as I lingered in worry…Him who through it all held my reigns with a grip of righteous love and a might of warrior strength….

Now to the promise and hope of a new day,a day I din’t for a moment think I would see I find myself with knees to the floor,not weakened by the night but strengthened by hope,the hope of His grace and sufficiency in all His mercies…So knees they bow in joy and a heart filled with gratitude…as fists fold to the chest and peace takes rest within a soul that lingered in despair….so the words once spoken now take form and find home within my heart…

As tears roll not from pain but from a mirth unexplainable,a joy untold and a calm within both reside side by side in perfect harmony and retreat….

Now troubles may last for a night but joy,it surely comes in the morning….