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happy birthday friend…

there is nothing more i could ask for you to have that you lack now. because every part of you, makes you, in the short time that i knew you, you are as amazing as i could have asked. if i had to meet you all over again, perhaps i could do things a little different, but the basics would remain, the constants in this interaction that is us… the you, the me and the us.. in whatever state, the us may remain.

so friend, as you turn one year older, i pray for nothing than the best. that smile i love so much, may it be brighter and better. those jokes you make, may they be funnier and richer. those eyes you steal glances with, may they be more soulful, but more , may they be more honest, True , smiling… those hands you hold me with, may they be filled with warmth and grace. that tongue you speak with, may it be granted wisdom and grace. that heart that caught my attention, may it be filled with love, affection and self love… may it beat with kindess. may the good Lord find a home in it. that brain i so admire, may it be polished and filled with bright ideas. may the work of your hands be blessed and multiplied. may the path you walk on be guarded and protected.. may you grow in wisdom, may you see grace and kindness, may the world be as kind to you as you deserve… may love be abundant in the hearts of those that love you, so they make you glad each day… may you not hurt, may you smile may you have the strength to handle the challenges. may you never feel the cold hands of loneliness, may you find happiness in everything you do.

may time do you justice, may you learn to be patient, may you be glad in this new year, but most of all, in all that transpires, may friends never turn their back on you, may you never forget, how much you mean to me, may you never doubt the part you play in mine…a few years worth of a lifetime in, and still, worth every minute of knowing you.

Happy Birthday friend. God speed.

 

Something else… (stories people tell)…

I remember waiting for him. Even before he saw me, I waited. I remember looking forward to seeing him, I remember desiring him, I remember missing him. I also remember a longing, one that wasn’t there before. I remember a desire to be that perfection he sought, I remember wanting to filter through all the women he saw, picking what he saw in each and implanting them in me, I remember wishing that I would be it, closer to heaven, a heaven which in this case was he. My heaven, my perfection. I remember lacking this, and I remember missing him less, I remember giving up. I remember not wanting to see him, because I wanted to see more of him, and one sight just would not cut it. I remember not smiling when I saw him, because I’d rather laugh and a smile just wouldn’t be enough. I remember not wanting to want him, because I wanted to see more of him, and wanting him for one second just wouldn’t cut it. I remember not wanting to desire him, because I wouldn’t handle not having what I desire more. I never wanted to miss him, because this would hurt every bone in my body. I remember hating him, hating that I liked him, that I wanted what I couldn’t have, and even more I wanted to forget him, I wanted to turn it off, once and for all.

Yet…There was something about this daring devil, the way he sang the tunes I wanted to hear, the way he cupped me like he wasn’t letting go, the way he kissed me deep and the way it made me feel. There was something I liked about this. The way he looked at me, the way he took me, the way he desired me, and the way I desired him. The way he wanted to “devour me” and the way I wanted to devour him! How nobody knew how I had to have him! How I liked having him!

I looked at myself in that moment an immediately regretted. I regretted that time we met, that time I said hallo, that time I replied to that first message. I regretted looking into his eyes, I regretted liking it. I regretted kissing him, and I regretted even more, liking it. I hated that I let him close to me, that I let his arms linger when he hugged me. I regretted laughing so loud I sought balance from his shoulders, and I regretted laughing at his words in the first place. I regretted noticing things, his height, his dark skin so thick and well spread, his larger than life chest, and the way it moved, but I regretted more noticing the heart it housed. I hated that he was kind to me, or ever so good. i regretted all of it, oh but I loved the secrecy. I loved that when I walked out that door, I alone experienced this shame, only I knew what I had done. That I had dared to poke the fire. That I had let him let my skin crawl with chills, and let my insides house all those butterflies. Nobody knew how I held the pillow tight a night to give an illusion of him, lying beside me. Nor did they know that I sniffed on anything he touched until my nostrils were saturated with the scent of him. I held my head high so they could not tell, how fast my chest started thumping by the mere mention of his name. I walked around in pride, as if I hadn’t carefully bent myself for him, like I hadn’t let him penetrate me, let him stroke the walls of my insides so gently, like I hadn’t taken breaths to this motion, and as if I didn’t surrender myself to him in a moment of peaceful gratification. I spoke with calm, as if I hadn’t mourned in his ear, like I hadn’t called out his name in the privacy of my room, and wanted him to go deeper inside of me, and take more dominion than I had given him. And no body could tell, how I wanted more of this forbidden fruit. I let no evidence show, of how my breast saluted his mere presence, nor how my muscles clenched at the sight of this taboo of a man. I made it so that they couldn’t tell, that his voice soiled by panties, and that if he spoke to me, I was as good as his. I could not face the world if they knew that I liked this feeling, of bittersweet shame and desire, that I wanted more of this journey, that I wanted him to take me. Who knows what they would do or say, if they found out I cupped my breast and closed my eyes as I thought of him, if they knew how many a times, I touched that mound guided by his thoughts. Surely they wouldn’t understand, why I wanted this Casanova. This man with a wandering eye and a travelling mind, that wasn’t mine but damn in the times that he was, exploded my innermost desires. This man who made me want it gentle, or slow, who kissed me like he meant it, and who cares if he did or didn’t. In that moment it made sense, and with us, its only the moment that mattered. The union of his shaft and my honeypot was all that mattered in that moment.

So to my shame I said fuck you, but fuck you the way he does it, the way I want him to. In motions that are calming, in rhythm to my whispers and in congruence with my desires. For all I think about now is taking this forbidden fruit, squeezing it dry and sitting still on what is left of it, wait for it to fill up and pour inside me one more time

in the ring

so rumor has it respect has skipped town

so we can just toss around words at each other

that being subtle is too mainstream

so oil up your skin

set your towel by the side of the ring

and let the bell ring

if the whistle is already blown

follow orders and throw the first blow

careful not to jump, strike a move before the music strums

get ahead of yourself

while we know for a fact it takes two to tangle

and i want in on this waltz

surely i have learnt a thing or two over the years

my left feet can sit this one out,

let the magic in me flow

what good is a dance if the crowd is not smiling

and isn’t his what its all about

the one that gets the loudest cheer

the most male vests and belts tossed to the ring

its the roaring of their deep throats that count_

how hard they stump their chests for you?

how many whistles make the rhythm when you walk past?

how many shout your name with their tongues hanging out?

gasping for air or for a sting of your fragrance

please the crowd and let you hair flow

i say, sway those curves and entertain

am not too hospitable am afraid

take a count of how many worship at your altar

surely there must be an award somewhere

in a somewhat distraught dysfunctional parallel  world somewhere

so when i throw in the towel

hope they make you the winner

i fear the misguided limelight is not for me

the fiascoes of the shallow end do not please me

not my cup of tea, i dare say

so i award you the crown myself

i am in it but to disappoint

the eyes that starve for my shame

i give the title up

surely you must agree

your more deserving of that golden seat

massaged by trivial ideas you create in your fantasy’s

and creations of the fallacy you live in

graced by the cheers, chest thumps, and roars of your servants

this battle am afraid-exists in the thorny walls of your dark soul

and i desire not to play part

in this unrated script

here;i hand in my towel

i set out my journey

clothed in much deserving respect

armed with my dignity

i rest my case

whispering walls

It’s the end of the day. I am tired, my body mostly, but a hot shower will fix that, my mind though. My mind is tired. This house is cold, its freezing out, almost to the point of rain, a light breeze  I think, I am tempted to go outside, spread my hands like they do in the movies. And enjoy the showers tickling my skin. It feels good I bet, calming. Almost soothing. But it is just another night,so I cant. I digress… this house, yes. Its cold. I cling tight to the wine in my hands, in a cup, a big cup because a glass just wont do. Its getting to my head I think. The walls are beginning to make faces at me, whisper things, and I am not scared, I stare them head on, and I listen.

The walls of this one room are smilling, they are being kind, talking of sweet things they’ve seen, sweet dreams I have had in this room. They are asking me questions, of where he went, and where she is now, and why “he” and “she” are not “they”. What happened, for what ever did, was outside of these four walls. They are sad these four walls, they are getting dull and greying and getting colder with each question they ask. They want to defend me, to tell the truth that they saw, and give witness to the naked “she” they see everyday. They want to tell the truth , my truth. They condemn me for not fighting. they hate that I didn’t. I remember what they did for me, how they housed those dark days, how they kept my secret…, I beseech them not to say it. Its insane that I am speaking to a wall, but I do, and I beg them, to let time play out. I love these four walls, they’ve seen some of my best days here. I hate that I have to say goodbye to them, but I do, and I will, to a fresh start I think, a blameless, flawless freshly painted set of walls I hope. But I will miss them, how close they are together, as If to give an illusion of all they have done for me, to bring together, rather than split. I stare at them, and I love them. So I know I will miss them. These four kind walls… I hate to see myself leave, these cosy little room, and its four smiling walls…

And as they whisper in low tones, telling me that its okay, that I can take the big step I so fear, I let them comfort me, for I do, need the comfort. I let them give me the illusion of company, for I do need the company. And I let them see my tears, welling up in my eyes, and they can tell what each drop means. They know the one that speaks of hurt, the one that cannot fathom the twists of fate. They know from which eye the tear falls, that says its unfair, that I shouldn’t have to bid them goodbye, they know from which betrayal lies, and they know from which eye, falls the tear of defeat, of surrender, of hanging the white towel, from refusing to give myself up to the ring anymore… yet they smile at me. And in the coldness of this house, these four walls from whence I got my comfort, my love and safe haven, these four that know my deepest secrets, they keep me company, and I hope that in my new home, I will find a new friend in my new 4 friends… for a second chance at this, a second attempt, a chance at reprieve

And life is easier lived

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Try waking up in the morning with someone on your mind, the same person that has roamed your mind all night. Try saying your prayer and actually saying their name, actually asking any higher power, the mighty deity of the world to watch over them, because you cannot. Now take a swing at closing your eyes and recalling a time that they did not exist, and you ask yourself, “how did I ever do it”.

Ask yourself, “what did I love then, did I even know love, because now, it is he that I love?”. Try to remember, “what made me smile then, because now, he makes me smile effortlessly?. Did I ever laugh? Because now, when I laugh, I think of him first. When he roams my dreams and takes command of all my rest, I ask, who existed there before? And how effortless did he just consume them, to a point of no recall? Who did I dream about when I wasn’t dreaming of you? When you were just a passerby, before you stole my heart, and made it yours, who owned it? And why didn’t they own it as well as you do?”  Try asking yourself these things and when you don’t have an answer, at least, not one that it good enough, imagine this…

Imagine looking him in the eye, having a million words to say, and only saying hi… not hey love, just hi. Try trying to express a million of those words into one simple hi. Try showing the emotion of all your dreams and desires, in your eyes, without betraying your hearts deepest secret… try going about your life like they don’t exist, like you have no room for more, try not wanting what you want, you might as well, since you’ll never have what you want. In reality you might, but you have no way of knowing, and in this, you must surrender the power, because the things that may affect you, bring you together or further apart are yet to happen. Its an unknown. One that you have no power over, imagine letting go of this power…

What I don’t want to admit, what I refuse to accept, yet I know I must, is that we all must have the grace to live out our days, accepting what we have, but with the same grace, we must let go of what isn’t meant for us…. That as we chase our dreams, consider leaving room for a higher power, for destiny as laid out in the plans He has for us, realizing that in no way are we the callers of destiny. We can only play this game of life, and play to the fullest. Live with every ounce you have, live out your days knowing never, will you look back and say, I shouldn’t have. Be aware that you had to, in order to be as you are today, and have what you have today. it had to hurt as it did, to teach you as so.

The reason I use love for this analogy is that, we all relate to it, to have love, to lack love, to be loved, to love and to forego love. And at the end of the day, to be part of this beautiful virtue that Is love, in whatever sense; gaining or losing; and to surrender its control, leaving room for vulnerability and for happiness, to let go of this power and simply let love be, teaches that there isn’t anything we cant let be. And life is easier lived.

After all, it is not about you. The purpose of life is far greater than your own personal fulfillments, your peace of mind, or even your happiness. It is far greater than even your family, your career, or even your wildest dreams and ambitions. If you want to know why you were placed on this planet, you must begin with God, you were born by his purpose and for his purpose. It is only about God through Christ. This man Jesus gives peace that surpasses human understanding. Let the resurrection rejuvenate us more to know him better.  

 

Stories people tell…

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A closed caption said, “Have you ever wished you never met someone, but then wished you would meet them all over again and do it all afresh?” Do it right. Is the latter too much to ask of life? Imagine a lifetime with two acts, Act 1 and Act 2. In the first act, you met the unfiltered multitudes. Mother nature in her raw form, and untamed. The good, the bad, the heroes and the villains in the stories. In this part of the lifetime, we meet them all, know them. The villains hurt us and the heroes save us. Those we turned to villains we do, and those we change to heroes we do. And ourselves, we remain so beaten, in ruins, with scars and sore spots. We love with all of our hearts, and we love how we wish to, we refrain to love those we fear. We take some risks, and some we forego. And when we give, we give it all. Even when it hurts, we give, we love, with no take backs. In this painful act of life, we do it all. I know I would love, and I would give, and I would be free. I’d do it all, because I know, there is another take. I know that this is not the last I see of those I lost, and this is not the end of what I give. In another lifetime, I can find them, him, and do it all over, with the lessons I learnt. I can love, with the wisdom I gained and with the freedom I wish I could.

In the second act, we do it right. We know who are right for us. We know what moves are right for us. We do it right, we don’t lose, but we win. After all, we have seen what forever is, and who we’re with in the final days. So we plan right, and we love right. We treat them right. Those that mean the most to us, and we make everything count; Every moment, every second, every kiss, and every glance. Because we know that they are for us, and the dice is cast already.

Perhaps this is why I say, that since life has no take backs and plan Bs, clones really should be a thing. I’d make myself one. He’d be tall, and he’d be dark, bit of a beard. He’d be a loud mouth and stylish. He’d like blue or purple and he’d be a mystery. He’d have different shades to himself, he’d laugh and make jokes, and he’d enjoy my company as much as I enjoy his. He’d be a people person loved by many. He’d wear a specific scent, one that I would bathe myself in. He’d be exactly the same as the original, except, he would love me just as much, and give just as much. This clone would be imperfectly perfect, as close to the truth as possible, but most of all, he’d be my perfection.

But clones are not a thing, and life has no take backs, so we take it as it is, and if you see your perfection, as imperfect as they are, you take it and run, making every minute count. There is nothing to like about regrets. Nothing to say about what ifs, as I learn to live in the moment, I encourage that you do so. No take backs.

 

Jalada Translation Issue 01: Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o

Jalada

The Upright Revolution 3


Introduction

Original story in “Kikuyu” by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o

Translations:


»“English” by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o ・ “Amharic” by Mahelet Lisanwork ・ “Dholuo” by Richard Oduor Oduku ・ “Kikamba” By Peter Ngila ・ “Lwisukha-Lwidakho” by Lutivini Majanja ・ “French” by Renée-Edwige DRO ・ “Arabic” by Nazar Mubarak Al Emam ・ “Luganda” by Nakisanze Segawa ・ “Kiswahili” By Idza Luhumyo ・ “Afrikaans” By Maneo Mohale ・ “Hausa” By Mazhun Idris ・ «


First Intermission: A recorded reading of the original story in Kikuyu by Eunice wa Mwaurah



»“Ikinyarwanda” by Louise Umutoni & Suzana Mukobwajana ・ “Meru” by Njagi Brian ・ “Lingala” By Richard Ali A Mutu ・ “IsiZulu” by Sihle Ntuli ・ “Igbo” by Nzube Ifechukwu ・ “Ibibio” by Daniel Ben Udoh ・ “Somali” by Khaloudy Mohamed Sa’eed & Abdillahi Raage “Sayyidka” ・ “isiNdebele” by Junior Moyo ・ “XiTsonga” by Moses Mtileni ・ “Nandi” By Gideon…

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