THE PARADOX WITHIN:sketches at the Airport

A beautiful morning it is,filled with excitement and smiles to cup it.It is 6 and my sleep is gone.Am eager to take a drive down the escarpment.Down to the valley beneath the rift.

So with no alarm to wake me up this morning the excitement is pure enough to rise me out my bed.With grace from above this is a day to sure enjoy.

So am out and the next is a knock on David’s door and he ain’t even in,must be an early riser from the guess of it.”Aaaah Husseini,”he quips from over my shoulder,”Na umekuja mapema sana?” To mean am a bit too early,but the agreement was 30 past 8 and I sure had delayed with another 20.He ain’t dressed let alone shower.

Am reminded he went on a little spree to calm his nerves last evening of the imminent reality that most of us so succumb to in a moment or some.

He drags along and we take the much awaited trip down the escarpment,mission?To pick Morena up and be out in a swift.Not much to talk about down the drive which is actually awkward for a friend of forever.But we have learnt to enjoy our silence and be at peace with each other.

We are down the escarpment and a delay takes form which in reality is worth it as we are headed back to the city to take a flight,something that for an initial time is always quite exciting.But not Today.

Back on the road and the car is filled with tales,all tales to cover the emptiness that so burns within.I wonder why empty yet the beauty of life lies in the skies and in the warmth of love?But right in the midst of all that is where chambers grow and streams flow I believe,right?

Getting into the airport the air is calm and the birds do not sing this evening,or maybe they don’t on this part of the airport,did they know how it feels like to be at Terminal C1 of JKIA?At this point I believe they do.O and if you lost me,this is the departure terminal for international flights via the Swiss air.

Did I mention that on the other end right after the entrance,with an array of wild beast statues and vultures alike against a backdrop of green leafy grass I could hear songs?(Oh,they’ve added a hyena,Janex shouts).Not actual songs but the chirpings of nestling birds and some going to rest?

Quite an irony on my end with the downing sunset and a pull and push of bags past the entrance.I look for smiles and non familiar can I find.I look for excitement and seems it all lies far within the setting sun..The rays of which aren’t so captivating this evening.

I look within myself,the self-proclaimed activist of nature and it’s glorious beauty now am all but against it.It brings no joy within and I can’t even hold onto it.Not as I used to.All this time David is quiet as he calmly(from my view) whispers into Morena’s ears,she is not the jumpy lively girl I have always known.

Janex on the other end,wait a minute,now who gave her that name,I won’t even ask that for he mother as I have discovered is an awe,an amazement of a person.And she on the other end is the big sister I never had so amma hold it down here.She has nothing much to say this evening and contrary to this,quiet and calm has never been her big win.

I guess all elements shout obscenities at this point.

Just a little steps down the tarmac are a couple entangled in a never ending hug,are those tears I see through both their eyes?the glint within their souls is tested to its limits at this point but goodbye they must say.

Back to my step,the two sisters check in as we wait on the pavement with anticipation that they will come back the entrance saying the flight is cancelled or there is a delay but nooo…

She comes back,Morena,Janex has to watch over the luggage,hugs David and tight they stay,my mind is lost in trail and Mo’s mum engages in phone calls a meter away,not that they are important but at this point they have to be cuz from what I gather she is no fan of goodbyes.They hold back the tears and the sorrow is evident.It actually shouts through the air and could cut a pin into two.

I glance away and find no solace in all the sad faces I see.Why do we have to stand outside while they go inside anyway?Why can’t we wait on the inside with them till they board the planes?On my left is this lady with a ruddy face,just from bidding her hubby goodbye and can’t seem to get off the phone with him,no sign of joy on her face.

Why does it hurt so much right now yet picking them up at arrivals just a few weeks back was quite a joy?

The sun has no remorse as it downs and reminds my soul that the same tree that brings food is the same tree that falls upon the roof of the house when it is old and wary and the rain beats hard on it.

Slowly it dawns that these are the sorrows and joys of air travel,the actual paradox of life;to those coming in amazing joy and those leaving terrible hurt.No photos Today,no moments for that…

My Italian friends Govi and Franchie cried the other day as they hugged us and never wanted to leave,the Philippine,I named him Philippe though actual name Jerrick never wanted even a handshake as a goodbye.

So now I can’t afford to give Morena or Janex a proper hug,the sorrows of goodbyes.

The best you can do is to face the truth and seize the day as the greeks would have it written in italics “CARPE DIEM”.


IS LOVE AN ILLUSION:the sketches of growth.

Am standing here,in a place of no return,or so I had they call it.My heart sinks as waves and waves flow through it.

Down the side-walk stand a couple,middle-aged I guess,the lady looking petite with a beautiful grin upon her chin,clasped in the right of her hand is a handsome chocolate to almost ebony in skin tone,he should be in his early thirties with the lady approaching her thirties,quite a match I must admit.

A stare at them with his magical smile that seems to be engraved onto his lips is inevitable;he draws her closer and looks into her eyes,an action of affection I believe it is,which even in my withdrawn state still curls a lump down my throat.Did I say down?an actual lie that is,for even to swallow is a struggle as the pain is eminent.

The sun is calmly and annoyingly sinking over the horizon,an action which on normal occasions would have been a sight to behold.Today though and this evening in particular I envision no beauty in it.

It lies a reminder of the things I’ve lost,the beauty that so embedded my heart.The stare into the horizon that brought nothing but warmth,joy and peace to the darkest corners of my innerself.

Yes,through the drive they kept asking me if I was okay but the lump was too deep to even give an answer,so I shut them down with a smile,all so superficial it left doubts in the trail as they came back to the same question after much laughter and tales shared.Very interesting topics I must admit but asked of which I would remember non for my thoughts,O my thoughts some day I hope won’t become the loss of me.

So I tried to lie right through my teeth that I was okay.My friends they sure cared but my thoughts I couldn’t divulge,so raw,so deep yet so painful to even share.

Am confused to say the least,cuz if I used distraught they would call an ambulance or I dunno if they’d use the cops but one thing am sure is rehab would be a good place for me.

But no,I won’t,I can’t even afford to think about it.But still my heart it sinks.

So my love for sunsets has to forgive me for once,the alliance and affection we once shared is proving unpalatable.My eyes try to look but my heart is not convinced,that one day the sunset calms you and the next it burns you inside.

See am trying to be positive but just like these young,sexy and if I may say even optimistic lovers.Just as they stand in amazement at each other was I the other day.Or was it a dream or just a voice inside my mind that crushed in an avalanche?

So no,I don’t hate the sunsets,I don’t even mind them right now but,but you know what PePa?The sunset reminds me of all my joy and my happiness,all my warmth and the peace that lay within my heart.So I try much not to look at it with beauty because in it lies a reminder of my ache that if I had the will to,I would reverse.In a snap of a finger I would.

So as I stare at these two lovers if I may call them,my heart goes out to them but more to God in prayer,that this warmth they have stirred may grow into a fire,a fire that if love is true can only be quenched by more of it.

So down lower the sun sinks it reminds me of a song I once loved;-

Tonight the sunset means so much,the one thing that you know,you never touch;like the feeling,the real thing I reach out for that sweet dream,but somehow the darkness wakes me up,and I’ve felt this emptiness before;

But all the times that have been broken,I still run right back for more,You’d think that I’d learn my lesson by now,you’d think that I’d somehow figure out,that if you strike the match,you’re bound to feel the flame.

So forgive my dislike for the sunset right now.It makes me doubt love in all its essence because it creates a depth of emptiness within.An emptiness that I never knew only a single one soul could fill.

But it is just me and deep down I know that love is a beautiful thing.So with this realisation I look at the couple down the sidewalk and that pain fades away.

My mind strays and so does my eyes across the road and there stands an older couple,years have passed together and they look like they just met Yesterday,they look amazing and the warmth between them magical.Fifty and going strong….then it hits me that the friendship had solid foundations,roots upon which an amazing tree grew…the tree of love.

So PePa,maybe love is real,maybe not an illusion,it just needs roots upon which to sprout and foundations to lay on.A foundation of strength and friendship.

So the sun goes down and up comes the moon.Out of the gibbeous and approaching it’s fullness.

So from my initial question of love being an illusion,my very rumblings of the sunset are rubbed off by the growing moon,and the chicken sure come to roost as realisation is built.It all takes patience,a patience though learnt the hard way makes all noises of sense and triumph.

Only true love grown over a toil of patience and sweat of friendship grows into the fullness of a moon to behold.Or a sunset to gaze at with nostalgia?



Deep in my world,I am lost in my sketches of encounter,a piece I did before actually having a real encounter,a tangible one that is.Now I look and it seems prophetic,even dejavourish,like I had had the encounter all within myself.

The encounter itself,borne from nothing but a play in mind.And then from the looming shadows,filled with fear and uncertainities,filled with consternations and broken pasts,all lost in trials and traits of heart-aches,no,the encounter cannot be possible let alone imaginable.

Filled with fear,fear from past mistakes and constant failures,the encounter looks far-fetched,not even closely warranted at this very moment and not welcome in the slightest bit.

I reflect on the sketches;That boring start,sure was boring,who woulda thought it would bear any fruits?then come the thoughts through the night,a nation on foot that led to a walking or working nation,I was on it,three hours in traffic on a stretch of 5meters;the perils of my city and lack of planning though…

Good side to this though is that the sketches of life came to play,an amazing sketch that took me deep into life as it is with all its flaws and I sure learnt to look beyond the flaws as portions of beauty playing intricately.This led me to break the chains and see the wonders beyond the eyes,into a world of possibilities,into believing everything was possible.I then meet the sketches from my past with grandma and her fireside stories;tales which lead to the uncertain death of a hunter.

A death which builds an amazing growth within and leads to the birth of the sketches which I would certainly call my own.

In times gone I find myself in a coffee house,same place am at right now,I would have done the same spot but different is sometimes good,creates more memorable moments even in the midst of obscenities.In this same place I found a tirade of sketches,those of diversity,the diversity that we are so scared of but makes us who we are.

This same scary diversity leads me to encounter,in the outskirts of the city and down in the Mara I find myself.I go through travel chronicles,chronicles that happen quite after the glint within is discovered.A glint that fills an empty space with hope and joy,with visions and aspirations.

The glint’s discovery takes route and sure form after a dance with fate at the embers by the fireside.An amazing evening at the Mara that was,you are present but lost in your wiles at the same time,lost in thoughts only embodied in laughter and stares into the dark skies amazingly lit by constellations,of stars and hope,a jump into a new beginning.

So am seated here and it makes sense,why all the sketches piled up together;why my life will always be sketches,why sketches amaze me more than flawlessness,more than make-up and lipstick,more than perfect hair and well manicured nails and toes;why the very chips and skin breakages are such an awe to me.

I now realise that it is these same sketches that mould together into what God has in store for me.They define my every moment.

These sketches led me to this encounter,I would call it the encounter of a lifetime but PePa won’t let me for flow of plot.This though is an encounter of self discovery;discovery series huh?

A discovery that my past doesn’t define my present and not even my future.A realisation that the sketches help build an unbreakable foundation,that through them I shall not see my past as broken but my present as laid on foundations of rock and steel.

So am no longer scared of the encounter,for this encounter just as or based on the sketches is the beginning of something good.Though I could be scared or almost give up,now I see,now I realise that my scars they don’t seem to matter anymore,my sketches led me right here to this very point.

Now I know that it’s gonna take sometime as a friend once told me.I have to admit that the thought has crossed my mind and this might end up as it should.So at this point I got to say what I need to say,and hope to God that it don’t scare you away,still I don’t want to be misunderstood but am starting to believe that this could be the start of something good.

PePa nods in affirmation so am going to cross my fingers and wait to see.


TRAVEL CHRONICLES :-Sketches after the embers

So from the waves of the previous night,a rusty dusty ride down the broken roads enjoined by portions of murram and in some cases,pieces of tarmac.This as I learn originates from tarmacadam and man don’t I feel learned at this point?If only I din’t miss that single history class on Industrial revolution and it’s propagaters.

Oh and before I loose me in my excitement,tarmacadam is basically the surfacing material made from combining marcadam surfaces.Materials which in my opinion are a rare commodity in this part of my world,or maybe there lack of is of aesthetic essence,but what do I know un-classed me?

A retort to the same brings me to the realisation that a great safari is entailed in brisks of discomfort,dust and sometimes even a broken bridge.After all,this is Africa and we doing the Mara,right?

The ever keen tour guide cum driver even quips in that a drive down this road in the rainy wakes warrant a push and tag at the trucks.Now this is a total 3-D video image in my mind and my excitement rides high.Call it mud-lust if you may.

It is a drive that bumps our now sore behinds,our eager eyes and ears for any new vision not giving any air-time to the pain of the bump.A worthy drive I must admit.

Gulleys are common and by now they have gotten my eyes and mind used to them,even missing them when there are non visible to snap.

The caravan heads deep into the wild and beauty unfolds in arrays of health and life all in a race to win.Lazy gazelles feed aimlessly like the lions and leopards not to mention the crazy racing cheetahs lurking in the bushes are no threat to them.But this is the wild and everything can change from calm to crazy.A constant watch out for survival.

Survival did I mention?Am reminded my arms shouldn’t be hanging out the van as this would attract lions;for a moment sounds like even lions have joined “Team Mafisi” out here in the wild.But still I could have heard wrong so don’t take my word for gospel truth now?After all we have all heard of false prophets huh?But am no prophet so lets get wild buddies.

Still staring at these lazy gazelles I realise why they all got nowhere to go;this is a freaking harem,one male and a frenzy of 40 female or more.Too exciting as a single female straying off the harem is hunted down,sorry chased down to submission by the male who brings her back to the flock.If only men could have this same privilege then there would be no cheating.

And did I mention a male fights to the point of losing a horn or both just to lead a harem?Hahah true display of politics in the wild,difference is that after they win they still protect their catch.

My friend Morena at this point is so excited and has in her books a favourite gazelle.Am sorry guys for me only the harem is a marvel so I quickly forget the name of her favourite gazelle whose under thighs have grey beautiful markings alongside a splash underbelly and majestic horns.Give me credit for the description if the picture comes to life.

So on we go as the terrain remains nothing but lustrous and captivating.The kind I would have wished to write stories about back in primary school of my hunting escapades during the holidays;I mean the whole composition would have been a description of the terrain with a last bit of a chase of the hair down the valley with no catch achieved.

Pepa stares as I loose trail but back to the present terrain is a stretch of greenness mixed with dry bare-barked trees along the banks…such an irony but all the same captivating to the eye.The van sunroof must sure go off at this point as the view is intense.I call to Brian who is busy engaging the driver at the front.The dad he is he tells us to enjoy the view as it will not last forever.True to his words this view is taking every effort at leaving me breathless.

So down we head and right ahead lies a caravan watching down at a pride tired from the days heat.At this point Giovanni remembers the lions he has seen in zoos and sure these look quite healthy out in the wild.No wonder wild things are attractive.One lion charges at the car as if to attack and he runs to the end of the van.We all laugh as we remember him saying he would outdo the morans in fighting with the lion.

And what a set of teeth these beasts have,I pity the lazy gazelles mating and chasing down each other just across the ravine.

I am still in awe as these beasts are sure casanovas.When I thought all they do is eat and eat and run and chase and eat and sleep.Down the savannah are two buddies,a lion and lioness hot on it.A view to behold.For a moment I actually thought they love better than humans.And do you know what makes them even worse Casanovas?They would actually kill the cabs of a lioness to get her back on heat and get some…Who even does that?But these Kings of the jungle do.

The drive is nothing words can explain as this view marks the highlight of our day,it is evening and we have to take another drive back the dusty but amazing road.An epitome of nostalgic beauty..

The birds sing their last as they return to their nests in a display of magnificence.A cloud of them if not in a form of net up in the skies.Nothing can beat this view save for the heart-warming sunset over the horizon.A view that reminds Pepa of the true essence of the Mara.

So to camp we go as we await the rise of another dawn with a promise of dizzy joy.


THE GLINT COMES TO LIFE-Sketches take form

So the sun sets in crimson over the horizon and across the ocean.The only sign to a day brought to completion,contentment and a flow of joy.

The heart sure needs rest as the body cools down from the excitement burning down the spine.Speak not of the ears,burning and itching makes it all red in warmth.

So he lies down on the bed,a thump for the same and hands thrown under the head,eyes to the ceiling,no ruminations take form and pure bliss beats the odds of disappointment.He draws his hands together and his knees to his chin.

A master planner he looks like but true to the present case he is not none of that;here sits on bed a man ;not a piece of him but a complete encryption of peace,joy and sure content all drawn into one unit.No picture could best define his heart burning with joy other than the glint that so aches the little sides of his glowing eyes.

Even in darkness of his room he needs no lights to brighten him;his heart burns bright within and stomach plays to tunes of tumbling butterflies.

The memories from the day have so become the playback of his mind’s screen and even sleep,sleep evades him as his dreams entwine into the relays of the day.The encounter amazing and the now pool of warmth forming within his confines.The warmth that spills into his dream and his mind now works against sleep into tales of tomorrow.

Tales of growth and tales of joy,tales of love and tales of untold fantasies,fantasies that would sure grow into reality and a whole anticipation there before now coming alive.

Sleep is no longer of value but now the mind knows it has found true rest,not from pain or hurt but true rest in the warmth of another,not the completion of his soul but the beginning of his so desired journey;he finds rest in true love.The love of an angel,the glint that is borne into reality.

Pepa winks and the bait once set plays with the prey.She relents from advice and watches in anticipation.Like a naughty friend always waiting to say,”Remember I warned you,”but hey,this still remains a battle of hearts and no wits to the frame.

The cards are thrown and from my view,aerial you could call it,all shades are shewed and spades got no place.So the dice in air and all alarms shows hearts.

A game indeed but Pepa gives in as the hearts have no place for the joker riding away.

Tales into the night.

THE EMBERS-:Sketches from the outskirts.

Sun wanes down over the plain-side hills,burning red into that amazing glow,its rivalry beating gold and silver-smith’s craftsmanship in glaze of fire.

Down and dusted from the wary path of dust and bumps,a mixture of highs and lows,super dips and clutters all through the way.The energy is too much to miss and warmth ebbed up by the heat of the day.

A path where gulleys don’t only brace the pages of agriculture and geography texts but come to play in total array.A splay of deserted cactus and dry end trees fill the way.A total reminder of my early year stories of ghosts in the dark in shapes of faced trees:-the stories I actually fell for.

So a city boy is hand-plucked from the middle of the crowded city,and here finds himself in the middle of an expanse,so intense he is wowed and tempted to dine with the king of the jungle himself.

Down in the jungle the city reigns no more for every square has its own ruler.From the obnoxious and endless honks of unending traffic of cars here comes a quiet yet purpose-filled dominion.The rule of the jungle.

From the bands of rough shoulder shrugs,brisk encounters,traffic lights and commuter touts harassment,PePa encounters warm welcome,royal treatment and ultimately kingly invite.

And down before he settles the passion of the wild blows right through to him,with shukas(shawl) of red and spears in hand they welcome him with the famous swahili “Karibu”.

The joy is unrivalled and shines right across his teary eyes..tears of joy they are so no sorrow is found bound in him.His year lies on his back and along with his friends the fireplace becomes solace.Solace of heart and escape from the commotion of the year previous.From the noise and the constant hoots,the consternation and apprehension.

The cold bites through the evening as the stars gather into contellations,the moon has no say to the might of the twinkles across so gives way and beauty is reborn in the heavens.A mix of that and the unwavering fire crackles is a warmth so deep no love can match.

To top the ice are spikes of staff into the soil topped with chunks of dripping meat.The long journey down the rift now turns into quakes of joy.Filled with laughter and tales of introductions from the diverse cultures over and above the scattered social cultures

Deep within,city boy surely belongs and even grows a yearning of not ever leaving…Snap back he does and is welcomed to the chants of the local Maasai morans.Beautiful men I must say.Pepa is actually drawn by the relentless neat and reddened dreadlocks running down bald heads.

To complete the outfit are beautiful shawls of red and a clasp around waist with a sheath for their machetes.True warriors these are.A spear in hand and the chant as they jump up and down in war songs,these would sure scare even the mighty lion into the bushes.

As the fire crackles and the circle of chants makes round the fireplace,City boy is thus drawn into endless fantasy.

Welcome to the Mara PePa and let the embers of the fire draw you in.


THE GLINT WITHIN-: Sketches come to pace.

Blissful encounters,amazing to knit and full of colours in your mind you can never really find the words;I mean the right words to pur or even put it all down.

Suddenly wonderful doesn’t mean enough and beautiful looses its meaning.So awesome that you once thought was,ceases to mean so and speechless becomes a common-place explanation.

It is all illustrated at this point not in words but by the glint of joy safely held within the edges of your tiny eyes;yes that glint that is now so visible a blind man would see it.

See,your fingers itch to feel the contours of her lips but hey,that lipstick so nicely laid out would come a mess at the slightest fumble of you.But the manicured nails do cause a beautiful distraction so you stray to thoughts of the moon and the stars…a perfect mind trotter.If only any of these would help with your current predicament….

A retreat becomes impossible and aid is much needed to save you from your own insanities,your passion that has just lit its own flame and lacks mere will to quench it.Yes aid comes in the form of a childhood friend,Morena she calls herself,your last line of hope if not defence,defence from what though?from falling with a thud or from swimming in the deep end?

Instead of asking for bail-out you are drowned in and ask if foot would be worth the risk,or maybe toes?what about a whole head and arms submerged?

Well the bait is set and this time round you ain’t at the pulley end of the line but you are the fish baited within the ocean.An ocean you know can’t rival the passion that now burns not within your groin but is well-nurtured and obviously mannered.It is well held within the confines of your biggest muscle…Your heart..sometimes I wish she could listen to the persistence of the mind who so much cares for her,only she cares for her own tomorrow not to be bothered;but really how heart feels has never been her concern you know?

So battle is waged and one has to sure give in.Memories of the kind of person mama always wanted for you come to play you know,but heart convinces mind,who is now all but aloof;You know even mama would fall for this,right?

A big punch in favour of mama wins the battle with no much of a fight so head heeds heart.Heart tells body to forget about passion and build the foundation of roots unbreakable.

Then heart goes to course and replays;the eyes that hold,the smile unbreakable;no malice withheld nor rush perceived.All so velvety and yet hard to detach from.

They said like at first sight,hahaha,lust maybe?but honestly what distinguished the time between like,love and lust?wasn’t it all perception?

So the peril is laid out and PePa seeks to offer advice but who is ready to listen?After all at the end of the day,emotions always betrays all you know PePa?So let a guy try his luck,he might win right what his heart wanted the most.Cuz in this game of two,there is only one winner,both or non.

So PePa rests in contemplation as the dust rises in the heat of the battle.A battle that can only go one way and have one winner,both or non.


THE SKETCHES AFTER THE FRENZY:-A walk along the sidelines.

So the frenzy is over and the day is done huh?You din’t have even a single second before.The night was lit and O the amazing dancing and revelling that was.Not to forget all the beautiful hugs,kisses and high fives.A period when even prior strangers and enemies become bossom buddies and lovers.I love the festivities,why lie?

And were there any gifts?These must have been saved for the next day of boxers huh?

Boxing day they called the next.I always wondered why boxing they named it.Out in the villages there followed fist fights due to lack of understanding of the whole box concept.Box day would have been more appropriate in my opinion,but who argues against patriarchs either way?Or maybe un-boxing day?Let me not delve into that as I am no scientist as research would tip me right off the iceberg.Iceberg or icebag?Goodness! Who even invented English?

Back to today,you have a throbbing head,a hangover or what do they call it of late?My friend from Meru would have the perfect description,a total head-banger she would say.

But you ain’t complaining,in fact you need to unlock it using another glass or two for the gobble.After all,the Swahili put it as “dawa ya moto ni moto”.This directly translated into English should be ,”the medicine of fire is fire” and trust you me there ain’t no way am using cure in place of medicine.My mouth has refused…hahahah

I will honestly not dwell on you,at least not today.It is festive season and we all have a reason,two or even more to have a total blast.Just dont burst up everything in your wake.

Am still hoping the jingles din’t get to your head so much so that you forgot the reason for the season.Reason having been thanksgiving and reciprocating for the goodness of God upon your sanity.Can be a tough crack out there I know.

So am honestly praying(almost down on both knees) that you gave so much you had to revel and dance from utter joy.You had so much of you spread abroad it came right back to your doorstep,and so in big folds you picked it right up and went to enjoy it.That is what happens when we give,right?It all comes back to us.

Before I am in deep,am back to the coffee shop.From my view,I must admit that Kenyans sure love a holiday;Gobbles of coffee and decadence on brown and clear bottles,laughs,giggles,high fives and a flow of so much merry to pass-by.Old friends bumping into each other and new friends winking along;men,this is so much to all take in in one sweep.

Santa should come down the Tundra more often.If only the season was about him you know?HAHA,and the guy sure has a way with laughter,right?

But who am I kidding,let Kenyans be Kenyans and enjoy a break from all the early morning wake-ups,sleepless working nights,un-ending traffic jams,intense work and overwhelming taxes.Let us enjoy a little before we go back to paying for the SGR,which some of us have never used or aren’t even planning on using.

Speaking of which,I don’t know why most of us complain so much before actually taking a look at the benefits of some of these things.

Complaints,this is in reference to the standard gauge railway traversing the National Park.Have you have a look at it from within the Nairobi National Park?It is such a sight to behold,only rivalled by the likes of the great Oresund bridge and underwater tunnel.It lies between the Oresund strait of Sweden and Denmark.If you have heard nothing about this,it is a combination of a bridge over the sea joining into a tunnel under the same as it approaches Denmark.

What am saying is that the architecture of it is amazing and am sure that even the game of the park do marvel at it.So for a moment,let us find appreciation to what life offers.

Hey PePa,you have been a worthy companion from the start of this season so let’s take a bow,we then can do what we do best,saunter the sidelines and enjoy the view.Throw pebbles and not at glass walls.

I mean guys,who am I kidding,let Kenyans be Kenyans,have a good time and enjoy every second.

Happy holidays from PePa.



The flow ain’t lost as long as actual floor lies under;under feet and sole and not elevated above man’s head.The flow ain’t lost,no,not as long as one thing remains real and true,that only man comes above all else hence humanity remains vital and only God rules over all.

The flow sticks true as long as corks and bulls remail shit stories and don’t see the light of day.

So reason stays paramount and bullshit falls upon no-one.Yes we could say it all comes out rude but whatever happened to desire for truth and not only lust and selfishness prevailed?

What cloud was that that took rein of day,blurring vision of kindness,turning true love into mere lust:making ambition the growth of me and I,all these to the detriment of you and they,and nature if mentioned but who gives a hoot about nature?It will take care of itself right?

Speaking of nature then global warming hits the trail.So a cup of coffee,a cup of laughter,all join together and PePa remembers that she loves everything global;from global village to global well-being like global health and global growth.So no longer is it a concern for scientists and researchers or even data analysts but also a reason to sit round a table,making it actual topic of discussion.

And by now,you will all but know that as much as I try,it’s always a difficult battle to win over trail of thought and spit of PePa.A marriage I can not deny enthuses even me-self.So on we go,if only for a little.

To stop though is hard with much left unsolved.As sky rests high so thus will we soar,soar above ourselves into realms unknown,all hidden in the glory of creation.A mystery that you and I must thus find within ourselves.

I hear the jingles and all the bells,all raised above and way beyond.Beyond and despite the sad face hidden behind closed doors and panes,despite that unattended outstretched hand round down the street corner and above that bowed ashamed face that only grace can raise.

Still all these jingles and bells above,they bar all that up;closing the mind to thought of or all sound thereof,of that outcry and sore plea for help.

If bread and butter is common-day story by now,then please bare with my trail for deep down you know my heart it fails.Can you hear that heart that aches and pleads in utter loneliness within?So above the bells and jingles can you hear the silence,the silence of pain held within walls of flesh and I will not add of blood.So soft yet even the strength of hammer and bar-bell finds strain to break through and impossible it becomes.

So above the jingles and all the bells,that wall of flesh and gushing of blood;once strong but now fast slowing to naught,giving way to our ignorance and lack of care.That failing wall of flesh can hence be brought to life,not with needles and stitches or the touch of a physician,but by a touch of love and an abandon of care,a sprout of action,a stretch of hand and a smile of totality.

So above the jingles and all the bells,let us not sleep into the night so silent and deafen ear to thought or sound,sound of utter plea ,a plea for love.

So pen and paper in persuit of truth so finds one thing so real and true.That the reason for the season goes beyond the words of merry and wishes of prosperity.For merry can only be when Mary stops feign and stretches her hand to scratch another’s back.

Merry is only found deep within,she is that genuine smile that stretches far and beyond her arm can go.



THE SKETCHES OF ENCOUNTER:-A walk through the alley.(PePa)

It’s silent deep within,though noisy all around;as cars cruise by,and people brisk through,so a cross at the road,and a honking from the speeding cars,all work together to create a hollow through the heart….A moment in silence all wrapped up in his pace…

And then boom,a glance at eye,a smile reflected,a smile so deep it drowned the giant.And peace he could not hold,yes a smile so deep,it flowed to the extremes and broke the bounds.So chains were broken and heart was loosed.

A glance at eye,a shake of hands,a heart was drawn and put in chains,yet chains were loosed,and peace was found.Found where chains once lived.So to go on was a journey and a toil not worth it.So in trance he stood and hands he needed.Hands to hold and journey to share.For alone it meant that the walk was futile.

A glance at eye,and a million worlds came open,broken free from chains once so tight.All bound in ribbon,a strand of which is just but a single smile.

So a man who was so lost in worlds is now in place set free from a single glance.The power of an honest smile.

The roots of growth