The Self-fulfilled Lady

Someone somewhere has miraculously resurrected an almost extinct species of women: the Self Fulfilled Lady. That mysterious lady who goes wherever she wills as herself and only herself. The lady who does not raise tantrums just to get attention, but who won’t hesitate to shove some shoulders whenever her dignity is insulted. She is indeed a unique creature of creation. She won’t endeavor to harm her backbone by balancing her body on six inch hills on the ruggedly concrete jungle of Moi Avenue Street. She won’t suffocate her hips with tight gripping high-knee minis just to break the sweaty necks or blind the roving eyes of ordinary Nairobi hustlers, sufferers and perverts. She won’t walk around swaying her assets like a cypress tree wrestling with the wind on a chilly Monday morning just to flare up jealousy from the flock of casually dressed hardworking women who routinely manage and maintain the bulging economy of the CBD. Yet this lady will dress nicely. She will wear whatever she feels like wearing based on where she is going, who she is meeting and whatever clad is clean in her closet. She doesn’t have thirty pairs of shoes or 20 pairs of skirt suits but she will never lack something classy to wear when she steps out on a date, interview or walk in the city park.

This self-fulfilled lady won’t bulldoze people to get to the front of the camera; she is cool, calm and content like a serene waterhole in the hot shrub-manifested Savannah. Nonetheless, she will neither sink back in her seat nor shy away when the reporters’ questions and microphones come beckoning at her. She doesn’t torture her mind with unending information about the latest movies, fashion stalls, pizza joints, iPhone gadgets or alcohol brands in the market but neither is she ignorant of what’s happening around. She is the kind of lady that will chat freely with the makanga, gladly give you her phone digits if you ask nicely lakini ukijifanya bale ya unga ama eti wewe ndo ‘big kahuna’, huyu msupa atakusuka na kale kanamba ka yule mganga wa kutoka arusha. This lady is like an oasis in the desert that is modern day digital TV’s mentally-corrupted females. She is not one to measure her value based on fancy Filipino weaves, un-artistic tattoos and nose rings, ‘rangi ya thao’ bleached skin, glossy bloody-red lips or accentuated curvy hips. However, when she decides to, she will dress to kill. She is her own MVP.

The self-fulfilled lady is natural; not natural in that she wears raffia reeds or drinks milk straight from a goat’s udder or flaunts an unkempt dusty Afro, but in the sense that she is always herself. She is real. She is an undecorated walking package of peace; self-peace, self-worth, self-dignity, self-fulfilled girl. Maybe if you pray hard enough, the Most High may mercifully allow your path to cross with a member of this self-fulfilled species.

__uThanDiLe©2015

 

When

…through every song we sing,
through every thought we think,
through every thought we write,
through the manner in which we speak,
through everything we do,
from they style we make our hair,
to the clothes in which we wear,
from the way we smile and stare,
to the way we say our spiritual prayers…

__uThanDiLe©2015

 

On God’s Palms

You are not Afrikan by chance.
You are an exquisite divinely crafted work of art.
Masterpiece sculpted ba God’s own palms.
Finely polished with sifted sand n coated
with tha softest dust marinated in tha savannah sun.

You are not Afrikan by chance.

You are sketched in natures cyclic line
serenated ba tha seas rhythmic rhymes
even tha skies solemly confess that
you are surely divine.
Your intrinsic insence is no lie
ur spectrum of blakness is beyond space n time
let no one tell u otherwise.
You are tha universe’ first child
first clan
tha custodian of tha soil on which you stand.

You are Afrikan by design.

__uThanDiLe©2014

 

*..bLack sTride..*

Black man
divert ur heart
2 tha place where
u r more than just
dark

But…

shun tha despise
of different races &
tribes
be kind
detach 4rm reverse
prejudice
4rm any kind
of
hate crime

put ur mind
right
detox ur conscience
of poisons
& psyches
of the
colonized

breath back life
into ur slackened
stride

self define
reclaim back
ur
bLack
pride..

aight….!

*wen di dark nite slide pon di day lite, dem b(L)ack starz shine brite lyk Lion priDe*

uThanDiLe©2014

 

Chiing Chiing

u ax mi where ma accent is, coz evryone who’s visited that glamorous city seems to hav one fizzin on their lips.

mi thinks mi misplaced mine on tha return trip. mi thot of buyin one at tha airport, especially that of tha briish, but none was duty free.

so that is y wen we conversed all u cud here wuz mother-tongue tangle english plus a lot of swahili n a spint of kisii.

but i promise next time tha big bird takes mi 2 bak to that glorious city, ima use all ma shillings 2 buy plenty duty free accents 4 u n 4 mi

so wi can happily dialogue thru our nostrils without tha interference of outdated dialets lyk kinyore n kisii.

lets toast 2 that.

ching ching!!

 

* I’m Black Alright *

//it aint that we weren’t champions/
its coz they didn’t let us fight/
they claimed we were an inferior species/
coz we resembled the cool color of night…/
But once we got into that roped ring/
our fists overshadowed the best of victorian Knights/

jivin’ feet

hooks swingin’ quicker than tha speed of light./
we knocked them out quick & fast/

left them chantin’ dirges with the dust/

We’re black alright/

and that’s just fine.//

    __uThanDiLe©2014.

this piece is inspired by Jack Johnson, the first black heavyweight champion of the world.

 

Wololo

Them schools
ain’t no longer teachin tha right kinda truth
lads flauntin their IQ
quotin paris perfumed facts regurgitated from
outdated fantasy toddler books
systems vomitin knowledge saturated souls
culturally dilute
spiritually confused
like bugs emerging from underground cocoons
worshipin deities that look nothing like they do
bleachin skin with all types of liquids
trynna escape their God-given hue….

***
Re-write them textbooks
Re-fuse them half truths
Re-volutionize them wololo schools
Re-duce graduatin any more fools.

__uThanDiLe©2014

 

UNTAMED

shi seh shi want to braid a lions mane
shi seh she can tame the wildest of game
shi bliv any beast placed inna cage will
break at a certain stage
Delilah of tha digital age
shi possess that circus mentality
convinced a Sumatran tiger trembles at
tha sound of his master’s whip
shi claim her luscious lips can
tame any wild spirit
I fear a beast will soon tare her
fantasies into a thousand little
tiny bits
tragedy of a proud queen brought to
her knees by tha slave she thought shi
cud keep clutched under her heel
Humility
natures mesmeric kiss.

__uThanDiLe©2014

 

**How To Love Her**

For a woman, LOVE comes naturally due to their emotional nature.
For a man, it takes plenty of work & mad effort to achieve the same.
Why so you may ask; coz of this thing called the EGO. Simply said, A MAN IS HIS EGO.
Take away the ego out of the man and you are left with a boy without confidence or vision.
Love demands that a man lower his shied; let down his ego.
Love, by design, only exists & flourishes where competition is absent, extinguished or extinct.
Remove the ego & you will see love dig its roots so deep that only death can dare dampen its strength.

The Man, convinced that he can balance both worlds (Love & Ego), enters into unions that are marked with constant strife, unhappiness, discomfort &a tragic breaking of hearts. What the Man refuses to understand is that two lions cannot rule the same pride; two bulls cannot share the same kraal; Love & Ego cannot dwell in the same heart!!
One of them has to take the back stand.
EGO is about SELF; LOVE is about SELFLESSNESS. Ego is about YOU; Love is about HER.
So the battle rages on; the one which WINS depends on the one which you constantly FEED.
That is how it is, how it has been & how it will continue to be, so CHOOSE WISELY!!
Starve the ego; FEED THE LOVE.

uThanDiLe©2014

 

Just Us (part_1)

Them want us to give up being us.
They offer big cash & bizaar rewards
in return that we give up being us.
We stare in disgust & distrust at these
goonish gangs that think we can be purchased
like processed peanuts.
They dont realize
aint no cash prize no matter how nice
can make we sell-out our immence
pride boilin’ & bulging inside.
Them tryin to force us to assimilate
our identity totally negate
squeeze into their cocooned concrete cottage.
Ba we aint signin’ no contracts
that gonna con us to give up
that rich heritage passed thru our clan.
We aint gonna bulge no matter
wat them culture thugs try
to push & throw at us.
We aint poker chips that can
be xchanged for petty cash.
No thanx.
No masks.
Understand that
We satisfied
just being us.

uThanDiLe©2013