Mama Shujaa

By HANA NJAU-OKOLO Kilimanjaro You are I am Melting. Those patterns etched into your face Are tears carved under my eyes Draining through the mask. A glacial screen The landscape of my life Frozen into the familiar. Snow-cap Washing away As men in their folly Plunder the spoils of the earth. Face-to-face you say Do not weep for me Weep for yourself And for your children. For the Sahara And its spreading. For your soul Marooned on an Island of dreams Unfulfilled. Copyright © Hana Njau-Okolo 2008-2012. All Rights Reserved. First posted on December 10, 2008.

Swallow me whole without sedation. Sample the truth my heart's vibration. Limb by limb take me in. In every crevice you will find Hints Teetering, dancing around life's rim. Swallow lest the precipice invites me in. Swallow me whole Smack your lips Seal them with my single wish Brimful, the Marrow Of My Love. Mama Shujaa. **First published on July 8, 2009** Copyright © Mama Shujaa 2009. All Rights Reserved

Grand! This feeling, a vital source of my being. Warm orange and red beneath my mocha-toned skin Coursing through. His eyes Deep pools flowing, irrigating my soul Rich and fertile. "Nawa for your ass," the text reads as I walk into the train station.  "Lord do u," another text reads. This no-rigmarole-kind-a-guy. "U makin' me smile." Swamped with love. Elevated, stretched across the Atlas Mountains.  My African Passport still rises. Weekend njema! Mama Shujaa.

Baby, break the boundaries between what I see, what I feel, what I do. In the order and sequence of every fibre of my being, help me reach the unseen. These last few days contemplative, elemental in many ways. My brittle body weakened. Prompting a perspective focused inward on renewal, like never before. The imperatives manicure, pedicure, shop, dance, sleep-in manicure, pedicure, shop, dance, sleep-in. Delegate! Remote-control in hand, agitate the crew. Do. Me. Baby, and I'll emerge fully able to deal with existence. Play hookie, girls' night out, kick-it-old-school put the mind at ease search no more for unfinished business. Do. Me. Break the boundaries between what I see, what I feel, what I do. Mama Shujaa. Copyright © Hana Njau-Okolo 2009. All Rights Reserved.

Stretched over decades and oceans is the canvas of my life, too long away from the polite, humble Africa; its music, its street life, its vast empty fields, its thick forests, and mkokotenis [rickshaws] delaying cars on the road. My heart's longing thrives on the call and response of songs; carrying me decades, across oceans, and then it all seems like just yesterday. Where are those Songs Where are those Songs my mother and yours always sang fitting rhythms to the whole vast span of life? Sing daughter sing around you are uncountable tunes some sung others unsung sing them to your rhythms observe listen absorb soak yourself bathe in the stream of life and then sing sing simple songs for the people for all to hear and learn and sing with you. From Where are those Songs ( Daughter of My People Sing! 1972) by Mĩcere Gĩthae Mũgo , Ph .D. A former student of my mother, to this day Dr. Mugo calls her Mwalimu [teacher]. Mĩcere Gĩthae Mũgo , Meredith Professor for Teaching Excelle...

By HANA NJAU-OKOLO The train rolls into Peachtree Center Station, Passengers alight. Thick black braids projecting North South East and West. She heads south on the platform. Moving in step behind her Trusting her built-in compass A coiffed hair-do and A proper bespoke suit. His meeting is southwest At the Ritz Carlton. Black mascara over blond, Stiletto heels and all. She has time to kill at Café Hard Rock. Ping Pong paddles in tow, He heads west with alacrity. The World Congress Center has An All-Star show. The comings and goings of folk In this spherical gray passageway, Dry coconut husks adorn Solid gneiss walls Cut from the strata of the earth. A moving stairway towers ahead Continually rising To a bright light in the sky. Multitudes of screaming blue tiles Plastered to the left and to the right Cry out in the light And die in the solitude of darkness. Lips pursed, She sucks unrepentantly At the marrow Lodged between her teeth. No. 3 at KFC. Who’s scared? She quips. The two-minute...

By HANA NJAU-OKOLO Joel’s teeth chattered noisily shamelessly betraying him again. Ten days into Indian summer and His built-in weather vane was signaling the onset of winter. “You ain’t no man!” Pealed into his eardrums. It’s fresh cadence seeping through, The knotted heap of perpetual questions Lining the cockles of his heart. Undeserved taunts spilled from The lips of boys and girls With sweet pubescence Around the school yard. Why at no cost, Will Joel exhibit that false bravado, The Big Apple swagger of his hometown? Now, choppy phrases enunciated in pain, Trip off his tongue as he tries to explain, To Ms. Bona Fide, once again. “Wait a minute, wait a minute now. Let me talk!” Was all he asked, he explained. His lanky back retreats into the tightly woven fabric Of the special brown chair, as he waits for Ms. Bona Fide To meet him half-way. The iridescent make-up on her eyes shimmers across the table, An oasis extending beyond the hospitable smile on her face, Warming the strident ...

What comes to mind when you watch this video? Wacha wewe!

Map Source: AP 13 Year Old Somali Girl Stoned To Death A thirteen year old girl was stoned to death before one thousand spectators in a stadium in the southern port of Kismayo, Somalia. On October 27, 2008 Aisha Ibrahim Duhulow was stoned to death by members of Al-Shabab . What did Aisha do? In breach of Islamic law, she had committed adultery. The truth is that Aisha was gang-raped by three men. When Aisha attempted to report this to the Al-Shabab, they accused her of adultery, and detained her. None of the three accused men were arrested. It all began in August 2008 when Aisha traveled from a refugee camp in Northern Kenya to Kimayo, and was held there against her will by the militants. As the days went by, she grew distressed and it was reported that she became emotional, or mentally unstable. Initial reports stated that Aisha was 23 years old, but her father confirmed to Amnesty International that her actual age was 13. Under Islamic law, convicting a girl of 13 for adultery is ill...