5.African Woman

She sings as she cooks your food
And smiles when she serves
Do you see her as a wafer-
Pale and sparsely sweetened
Or like a good bar of dairy milk?
Rich to sink teeth into?

Is it her mouth?
When she says she’s sorry; and calls you baby?
Is it her submissive stance?
When you visit friends?
Is her beauty in her expressive gestures?
When she explains a scenery?
Which you don’t understand?

Beautiful, a part of you inside her grows
Amazing, when you begin to look alike

Or is it because she always comes home,
And washes her hair and body with lux,
And wears that silk slip you bought her
Is it because she can color her hair red?
Or because hr skin conceals ecstasy,
Absorbing light, shinning, not reflecting.

Her long skirts give your imagination the reigns
Is it the way she neatly wriggles and fits into your arms?
Or the warm breath in your neck?
Or way she finds your hands and warms them in her waist?

Is beauty only visual?
Is it in laughter?
‘Substance,’ you say and whisper
I’m no pervert, but I just like from waist downwards.’
Stretch marks? What are stretch marks?

Does beauty ooze?
Is it hidden?
Can it be touched?
Are curves divine, do hips intoxicate?

Why do you turn when she walks past?
Why do you love her.

Is it the eyes that shine,
The lashes that flatter,
Or the moist lips.

{Sublime Innocence, the poems. Cecilia Gathoni}

love, art and relativity

Now, ignore my pale views
Teach yourself to feel, to see, to touch
If dirt is beauty to you, then let it be
Don’t be constricted to this sole view
After all, I love my way
You love your way
And most things are relative.

Look at t he setting sun once again
I simply can’t teach you art
Coz art, is the beginning of life
As with light and flowers
Reflections of beauty
Reflections and interpretations of beauty

See the dew, watch the rain strokes rush
Diagonally like fleeting romantism
Learn art, learn beauty
As with patient contemplations
Sight and feelings exude love
That’s when you begin to love

My mind is stunned and crowded
Your actions disagree with
The constant pleading in my mind-your heart of stone and eyes of glass
Have got no depth and I’m weeping
I’ve lost my past, my future is uncertain.

So, will you let me explain my view, partner,
See, with our heart we are free but our minds keep pulling us apart.
Why with shadows of old past and mismatched tunes do you let this go on,
While it was decided we would let it go?

We held hands
We held hands and touched heads.You,
Uttered words you shouldn’t have now,
These words will haunt us
The constant ringing in my mind
Of words you said, but denied by actions
Your forgetting mind.
Is like a rock with no feeling, your, sacred heart denies me the sweet scent of rough old loving.
Your new ways
You, have learnt new ways to torture me,
You, forever will be inventing rules and standards
I, cannot help feeling that maybe,
That some how,
We’ve lost it

So why do you gaze at me so,
See, this life we lead directs our steps
If I should give the wrong sign,
Please reconfirm?

Your heart is a rock,as I said your body is an ice block, your actions are a big, intimidating boulder
Unless you learn to live, to love, to be,
Partner, you’ll turn into one of those.

Friend

I’ve seen the way you talk to me these days
I’ve seen how fast your eyes shift
And how quick your hand slips out of mine-
I’ve seen, how you’ll only ‘do your part’,
It’s not like before when, we chatted and you, playfully flickered my collar
I’ve seen how, you have him at hand every time you come around ,
That only formalities may be exchanged
I’ve seen, the way your glance doesn’t go past my forehead—have I done wrong?
Need I know?
I’ve seen, the way you no longer appreciate my poor man’s gift,
I’ve seen, I’m no longer crucial
I’ve seen, you no longer acknowledge even, my presence
I’ve seen, friend, something went wrong.

Three puppies,a Red shoe and a Granny

I always had a dog. In most of my pictures while I was young, I’d be holding a dog, most of them I called –chui- apart from one, Bosco, whom I really loved but he got poisoned by a mischievous neighbor when I went to boarding school. Mama{my uncle} had got him for me when he was just a little thing that fit into my cupped palms and when I held him he at once disappeared into my shirt and mama said-you are a very silly girl you know-as I squealed.
The chui’s also had a bad end, poisoning by the same hater. To this day I wonder why no one ever did anything about it. But I guess he got repaid when his dog ate some poisoned food set for the nieghbours' dogs and chicken. After hanging out with some vets, I have come to learn that poisoning a pet is as bad as feeding broken glass to your neighbour’s child. Next time your pet gets poisoned, don’t just fume inside. Take action.
One time, we had three puffy puppies. I loved them.
My grandmother loves color red. If you want to give a gift to her, please let it be red. She will be peeping at it all the way home. Her shoes are mostly red, her favourite dresses too. Her red shoes get a special place under her bed, and she rinses them out one more time separately. SO you can imagine the chaos that broke out when one morning as she prepared to go for her women’s group, she went to pick her red pair of shoes behind the tank, and one of them was missing!

Gathoni! Iratu ciakwa ciiku?{ Gathoni! Where are my shoes?}

I had laid out the shoes the day before behind the water tank where the sun set last. I had forgotten to lay them out, when I remembered, I realized I’d have to either iron them, stuff papers into them or look for the sun. The last option was most suitable, until, I saw the three puppies fighting over the shoe that was missing that morning.

We niwathira,{you are finished} Mama had said.

I got a nice reprove. I swore I’d buy cucu some red shoes when I got my first job. I haven’t, the way I see it, she has enough shoes for now. Her shoes, compared to my collection, she’d lend me 10 pairs and still wear a decent pair every day for about two weeks, last time I checked. But women love their shoes, so, I might just keep the oath now that I have some money to spare.

Ordinary Extra-ordinary Things

I guess,being away from home will always have its advantages,its disadvantages,, and the things that make you want to pack up and make a detour. But again I think, what makes one not pack up and leave it’s the small strange things that happen and make you think-Nowhere in the world but right here-. Like today, I was at the bus stop, the hot Eastern scorching every decent bit of skin on me. There was a woman smiling at me and I was trying hard to ignore it, but I got curious, because,hear it from me, it’s very rare to encounter a smiling woman where I am currently. And as I supposed, she is from a neighbouring country.
Hello-Africa?,She asked,running a hand over my back.
I said -yeah- and sat beside her.
-Do you have boyfriend?- She asked grinning
-No I don’t-.
-Good, I have boyfriend, Africa man. His friend, all single-.
Then she said I must visit her, so that me and her boyfriend’s friend can meet and talk- African-
The conversation got weirder and weirder .I was nodding and saying no thank you but she would say the same thing again.
-Have boyfriend-?
-No-
-Why not ? I show you African boys, you choose-.
She went on to tell me details about her boyfriend, how much money he has, how much he weighs, how long they have been together but recently he has been chatting a lot on the internet and she feels threatened..
Did I mention this woman is in her 40’s? Yeah.
I was saved by some friends on their way home too and we started to talk,when the bus came the woman gave me her contacts and repeated I must go to her house.
Up to that point, I was amused but I am sure if it had continued,I may have had to walk away.
Small ordinary things out of the ordinary.

POEM

Knead me with a disciplining touch,
Let purity and clean personality engulf me,
Forgive me,
Fumigate my wretched soul,
Compassionate me, please.