Monthly Archives: September 2019

BREW MY ICE:Sketches of perception.

Brew my ice I heard but through my eyes she meant.The whole difference between reality and perception lay right before our eyes but how often do we give it a moment?Say a second in space or time as I have now become accustomed to saying.It had been ages since I sat right at this spot as I was today.Last I ever came close to such a feeling was when I was doing CLASSICS:the sketches of love.

Sitting in this almost African homemade plastic stool and hearing the jazz buzz back and forth,swaying through the wind in my ears is total arousing nostalgia to my withdrawn soul.In case you want to read more on Classics the sketches of love,be sure to click and find it here CLASSICS:the sketches of love.

Last I was here though was a blur of noise and heckling of persons,both young and old.It was a beautiful sight to behold and space upon which to be found.It was packed with a frenzy of happy go lucky fit of diversity.I must admit time sure has its toll on everything.In others it heals,in others it breaks but in both cases what really matters is your perception and take of everything in your wake.So no,today there is no actual THE SKETCHES OF DIVERSITY:tales from a coffee shop.

The mood today is sombre as the deejay of the day must have been paid well and informed that this has been a total downer of a week for all folks.His jazz is mellow,almost soothing and caressing to the ears.I almost miss being in love,lying by the beach swinging on a hammock as this deejay’s jazz lulls me into slumberland.

For a moment the sweet soothing jazz almost makes me forget that am in an open smoking zone.Not that I mind smokers,especially from a distance and mostly the end of a ciggarette stick dangling seductively on a woman’s well manicured fingers.Note,just from a distance though.

At this moment,even Beyonce’s Halo song in jazz is welcome music.Never been her fan ever since this crazy crash on her died when I realised I was in Africa and she on the other hand was not only out of Africa but way out of my league.Not that I don’t have my good lines in my sleeve but hey,we talking big pockets and all you know?Let the winners take home the prize for now and humble us will spectate and cheer em all up.

Well,am no hater in any way but I just love knowing my position in life and enjoying it while it lasts.For now hence I will recline into this African homemade stool with plastic fastenings and enjoy the ambience and calm these dim yellow warm lights and jazz instrumentations trickle into my soul.

I don’t know why it took me so long before actually visiting this cafe but truth be told,absence sure makes the heart fonder;same reason why even lovers need a holiday and break from each other to want and yearn for each other even more.I ain’t no love doctor really though David my Master friend calls me doctor,a name I have become accustomed to.

My heart sways in peace from all in my space and beyond as memories trickle in with warmth.Takes me way back to the 27th day of September.This was supposed to be Hellena’s,my friend Louis’ birthday but what transpired was another whole narration.

I thought I had seen an end and extreme to God’s beauty and surprises but what happened then becomes the mother of all miracles.

I must admit over this period I have been away from this favourite cafe of mine a lot has happened and coming back acts as a good fortune and reminder of God’s goodness.Picture this,a span from heartaches to rediscovered and rekindled loves and then loss of the same,a span of depressions and reawakenings and the most hilarious yet amazing are the leaps and bounds of God’s love pouring upon me in waves I have to duck not to miss His greatness!And so it all boils down to our perception of every event God sways our way.

Allow me to wish you an amazing evening and blessed night,or should I steal the Barbarian in gentleman’s clothings line?He says,”Long days and pleasant nights”….if you want to read more from him you can follow this link barbarian .

Remind me to narrate the miracle of Louis’ son and mama in another upcoming sketch as we see how amazing the sketches of this life can be.

Till then,peace from PePa.


I CALL IT REDEMPTION: the sketches cry out pt2.

To enjoy this read more,check the first post I did called FROM ONE SCARRED HAND TO THE OTHER IN the sketches cry out pt1 HERE

Cold sheets grab my feet and thighs in an attempt of caress but no,all that feels like an intense struggle as I toss and turn for comfort onto my chest,side and back.Feet curl back and stretch forth in a wriggly attempt at sleep.Sleep that I have looked for all night with no avail to same.

It is five in the morning on a rush towards six as dawn races to get rid of the immense dusk and dark that prevailed against it the previous evening.An exchange that always seemed seamless prior to my current consternation.Lately however,it all seems like an endless tag of war,no,not a tag of war but basically a battle of the titans with all harm befalling the innocent civilians.

Innocent civilian in this case I should have been but in retrospect was I really innocent as befits the eye or guilty before charge?Maybe I will live to answer that question another day but till then allow me to make my pillow my point of solace if not utmost refuge.

Refuge from what though you may inquire but truth be told,in this lost and broken structure that I am in at this point of space I am no good respondent to any questions.Let alone questions that put me in disarray or make me feel worse than I could possibly be feeling.

Yes feelings,aren’t they the core essence of existence?of decisions and judgements?Of nations and rulers,of uprisings and battles?Of marriages and conflicts?Oh,I hear someone tell me that I am wrong,that all I have mentioned is controlled and determined by cognitive judgement….Okay,I once heard someone mention something like,”Let us agree to disagree”…never really known what that meant but right now,in this high mile or deep pit that I am in,I feel like using that phrase,”So please let us agree to disagree.”

My sheets grow colder against my feet at all night has been a sweaty affair of writhing in pain across my bed.If you are wondering if I am sick or something,no Pepa reader I am not but I am aching within as pieces after pieces of me rip away.As my Kenyan brothers would have it,”Sijui nasikia aje lakini siko poa!” whose direct translation would mean,”I don’t no how am feeling but am not okay”.

The very essence of my joy seems so far drawn from me and even the shell that held all integrity in place is all but disposed.Here lies an empty space in time for lack of reason or shell of existence.Here lies a man lifted high in the promise of a bungee jump and in place of a life saving anchor,the very rope that held his promise of hope got ripped from its hold to rid him of any life left to hold.

So the very rope of hope that held him hence becomes the core castigator of his imminent destruction,in his high jump that life-saving rope drags him down to the very base of the river….woe unto him if it is a water fall rapid for even the last breath can be drawn away by the happy waves…in this case with no promise of happiness.

Time rushes by as I linger into the depths of pain wondering and asking thousands upon piles of questions of hows and what ifs plus a myriad of whys.Questions that a specialist,bystander,onlooker or even you Pepa reader could have answers to but in my state I need non of.

The pain builds as dusk gives way to dawn and that beautiful ray of sunshine that sure brings hope takes over.Takes over my surroundings as my heart remains adamantly cold to any promise of hope.I am supposed to get up and be ready for work but even as I slip out of my sheets,knees,oooh my knees,what did I do to hurt your feelings also?My knees give way and I slump to the floor due to lack of strength.

Tears well up the edges of my swollen yet so tiny eyes.They are at this point quite totally drowned in my sorrows and pain.

In days past,it was an almost scriptless routine from bed and down onto my knees then prostrate for devotion but today,this day,…like in the impulse my cognitive perception had lost all its nerves..I couldn’t curl up my lips in prayer,rather they so easily creased up in formation of tears dripping from my broken soul.

All that counted were my basest of feelings and raw desires.No,not any lusts or gross intents but all am thinking is how this cold icebox where my heart used to be would just pull off.I know just the right medicine and drug for this kind of feeling.At least for that moment I thought I knew it.I mean,I had watched many enough heartbreak movies to know that a cold pour of shower water would always wash away all hurt and pains however deep it bore.What I din’t know however or remember for that matter was that all movies were scripted and directed but my heart’s hurt was real.

And again,why do we feel pain in the heart area while the mind wonders in thoughts yet it is the mind that decided to get us to this point?

I remember before dragging my heavy now body to the bathroom,I had made this earnest prayer that if it was okay then God would just take away my life if not my pain.I never knew or even thought that at this point I would be worth any value,I just din’t want to be,I din’t want to endure the pain and depression now caressing my every edge and portion.I could see her literally grip me by the throat and tell me how worthless I was.

Depression,she had no mercy and grace was never her portion and I felt her hurl my body to the wall,pick me up again and stamp me under her feet.She din’t feel anything feminine,she felt like Goliath himself going up against that little Jewish lad clad in a brass helmet and netted vest,holding a spear that was shaped like a weaver’s beam.He on the other hand just like me had no weapon to match this prowess but faith in heart and a sling on the other hand.Only advantage he had over me is that he could see his adversary while here I lay in mine’s grip without even knowing I was in the grip of utter destruction.

So painstakingly I dragged my heavy, wary, almost crushing being into the shower and opened the cold water.I wished it could wash my hurts and sorrows down the drain buy woe unto me.The cold of the water bit harder into my skin.Almost like it was dicing up my flesh to add pepper to hurt literally.It felt worse as that promised relaxation found no home within my soul.In its place however more tears boiled from deep within as memories of her caresses and kisses came flooding my yearning heart.

How could she,why did she?Was I that unimportant?Was a goodbye too hard to curl up?Was she such a coward to face and tell me the truth or was I that vile to not deserve even a little honesty?These questions became the doom of me as the wounds of my now brooding infirmity lay open for the vultures and flies of doom to scavenge upon.

As the water that promised solace failed to drain away my sorrow I contemplated connecting the live electric wire to the draining water but this scared me more than the ailing heart.I turned off the tap and taking a towel to dry off I look into the mirror.I wanted to see the bewildered look of a broken man,one who mattered not to the world.Yes,I wanted to see how ugly he looked before I could help end his misery.

In the mirror however what I came face to face with I will never erase off my mind.In the mirror I found the bloodshot eyes of a once handsome and impeccable young man.One whose smile always left most in mellow.I stared deeper into those eyes and there these beautiful words formed,”Son,you are beautifully and wonderfully made,before you were in your mother’s womb I knew you,I formed you in the secret parts of the earth …..”The same voice went on to comfort me in ways I knew I din’t deserve.

At that particular point I saw no horror of a broken man but found grace through the mirror,in the comfort of a real father….He went on and called me son.He told me a tale of love and hurt and at that point I knew I was loved and felt no hurt like His.

I found redemption when all I wanted was a freeing and release from all this pain and depression.

Wanna read what dad told me?Find the sketches cry out in FROM ONE SCARRED HAND TO THE OTHER HERE


A SEA OF LIFE: Sketches beyond the eyes.

For all I knew

I knew nothing concerning her

Wrapped in chocolate and sheer darkness

Her pictures told tales of glam

Glam emitting a wave of opulence

Opulence borne from societies perception

Perception that almost rid you of all reality

Reality to what end though?

When we could all but ride on the wave of a facade?

Ahem! No,nothing really matters but face value you know?

The same that so defines humanity

Humanity I think is so lame and base

Base as it eludes the soul of all truth

So back to truth I saw beyond her eyes

Beyond the streak of greys upon her lustred black hair

See auburn would cover the faults in our eyes

But hers spoke beyond the common aging complexities

I mean who ages in their thirties?

So here she was in her epitome of beauty

Wrapped up in a facade we could all so easily get swayed by

So a favour I did myself and waded deeper

To find the heart drawn beyond the drapes

Drapes of the sea beyond the eyes

To find the soul far beyond

Need I say the truth I found beyond?