He says he likes my toes

He says he likes my toes.
everytime he looks at them
he seems shocked,
at how small are
especially when my foot
is wrapped up in his big artist's hand

'You have lovely toes' He says
almost shyly, as if
ashamed of what catches his fancy
I try and hide them
they are dusty, you see
the nails are too long, the polish is chipped
That doesn't change them he says

He says he likes my toes

If Only to be innate

I thought I’d write a poem. This time though unlike most times, I got the title and nothing else; but still I thought I’d give it a try. The title sounds too interesting to go to waste. Last night we argued about cars. How for some it is enough for the car to be beautiful; saying it does not matter what horse power it has if it will massage me on my way to a far off land. To others that was a non-issue, how can you be considered beautiful when you are non-functional. We laughed and shouted about what kind of love was better. Funny, the bottom line is we simply loved those cars, it did not matter why. Their names are fancy too. Aston Martin 177, Porsche, Cayenne, I mean, quite exquisite if I should say so myself.

The other day I had a strange dream. I have many of those but this was lovely strange. I dreamt I was riding a bike. I know what you are thinking, that is an ordinary thing. I was a ninja! You should have seen me, flying and swerving and totally unafraid. It was freedom. You see, the thing is, I cannot ride a bike in actual sense. I am not yet confident with my driving skills either but when I awoke, I wanted to do both. All fear aside, I want to drive and ride a bike.

I could have easily been this guy!

There is a certain joy in my heart, as if anticipation. I am going to audition for choir; so I have been listening to music trying to practice. Blame it on Pitch Perfect, it had the same effect on me that glee had; made me want to sing! Made me want to forget my vocal short comings and just try. So Now I am constantly doing voice drills and singing under my breath, whispering in the bathroom. I want to sing! Last night we were talking about Japanese animation and how it is just the best in the world. So, a couple of days from now, a few friends and I are going paint ball fighting. I am so excited at even just the thought of it. Bankai!!!! This means war!!!

Yeah!!!

Innate. The few times I have heard it used, led me to believe it meant non-living objects. These things that people have a tendency to obsess about but Microsoft word has given me synonyms like Distinctive, Inherent, intrinsic; Words that seem profound. Yet, the poem I wanted to write would have been ‘if only to be innate, then maybe my object of desire would want to have me. ..blah blah‘

Earlier today, I was thinking about what a perfect date would look like for me. I love to eat, yes but that doesn’t take first place in my world. I want fun and games. I want silliness. I want Didi’s world, bumper car rides, Ferris wheel, face painting and paintball fights. I want picnics where we try to sing not caring whether we sound nice or not but sing because our hearts are full. I don’t have a boyfriend and that, in the past could have easily had me wishing for someone to share all this with but…

Have you met my friends?

They are the nuttiest awesomest people in the world! True story. Hands down (something I often say with my hands raised, I wonder why).  My little group of friends, is innate (I don’t even know how to use that word). They are Distinctive, Inherent, Essential, Deep down and all the other synonyms for the synonyms Microsoft word has given me; intrinsic.

Yes, we were using public transport!

I learnt a new word yesterday, Indelible. My friend said,

“The Holy Spirit’s work in us is indelible” Cannot be erased, un deletable, wow! We may not be able to see it physically but…

“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit” John 3:8 NIV

That's Oba in the background

I believe friendships are part of the Holy Spirit’s work. How He got such a strange bunch of souls to find each other! I cannot explain but I know it; and it is indelible. Thanks Oba, for that new word; and thank you everyone for being my friend. Thank you God for everything!

15000/= too much...

Today is the 22nd day of the month, right? I have spent the whole week weighing what the odds are that we shall be paid this week seeing as I ran out of money last week. It is friday and we still have not been paid. I work for one of those organisations that does not have a definate pay date but last month, I'm pretty sure we were paid around this time. Hmmmm....

I have 15000/= left not just in my pocket, give or take a few coins but in my life! It is usually when you are low on cash that you realise how much you need and want to do that no doubt requires money. Tommorrow, I am going to have breakfast with the kids of God's grace orphanage in Kyebando. I wish I had more to offer them than just my presence. I wish I had been paid so that I give them money. There are like twenty other places I'd like to go over the weekend but I have only 15000/= and I must go to God's grace tomorrow.

I recieved an email today from one of the blogs I subscribe to, a lady who is spending a week in Haiti with her family. As she talks about the poverty and lack which very much resembles that in my back yard, I am reminded that I am beyond previlaged. My heart is drawn back to that place where I just want to give all I have. Where I want to put this cause, at the top of the list of the reasons why I wake up every morning and not just a once in a while, on some saturdays visit. I am reminded that I am not doing this to gain any one's approval but these children, my brothers, my sisters, my children...

And hath made of one blood all nations of men …

Acts 17:26

Look at them, aren't they adorable?

For about a year now, I have been a member of the Lantern Meet of Poets, we have met, not just to discuss the beauty of poetics but my eyes have been opened to my duty toward my country, my kin. My responsibility to speak up, to rise up and be counted, to stop living for me. I am not a politician, that DNA skipped my family tree but my heart has continually been stirred to the fact that my responsibility is towards my neighbour. I have learnt that I may not be able to go to parliament and change policies, make sure funds are not stolen, That may not be my place. However,there is God's grace orphanage, children, who do not just need food and clothing, they need a big sister, a best friend, an aunt and a mother. They need a voice, they need a heart that will care enough to know when one is not well. They need success cards. They need Christmas parties. They need sports days. They need family. All these little things that we so often take for granted. all this treasure at my disposal to give out.

I look at my 15000/=, which guarantees me that I will go to God's grace and back home. At the moment, it's all I have but what if I give all I have. Tomorrow I am going to God's grace orphanage, I am going to get over myself, get out of my shell and not wait to be asked for help. I am going to be the first on the line volunteering to serve porridge, wash cups, register visitors, count children, carry a baby, whatever my hands find and are given to do, I will do it whole heartedly. To love, to serve another, is what I am called to.

What if I give all I have?

Rain

The world does look cleaner after the rain, doesn't it? A few minutes ago, it was raining heavily. It looked like a scene from one of those horror movies where people get stuck at some strange house because of a storm. Isn't it weird how we use movies to explain real life yet movies draw from life. An egg and chicken situation?
Anyway, so the rain. It was stormy; winds blowing, tall trees swaying, cars almost swerving....it was beautiful! I got wet. I ran through the rain because it found me outside. Contrary to what most people expect, it wasn't my hair that I wanted to protect, but rather my clothes. It is the middle of the day, on a week day, I am at work, I definately do not have a change of clothes. I wish I could have stayed outside.

When I was younger, these kinds of rains were my favourite. I would savour those moments right before a heavy down pour. I was a bit of a strange child, still am; I would go and walk around in the compound, face up to the sky. I would run and let the wind blow through my clothes, I had no hair for it to blow but in my mind I felt as awesome as if it had. Rain; I don't think I've ever not celebrated rain. I may wish at times for it to hold off until I've found shelter or until an outdoor event is done but I've always celebrated rain.

I have a friend. He writes beautifully but never have I seen him write more intimately than when he's writing about rain. Maybe, to him, it is more than just ice cold drops and swisshing winds. Ask him to tell you about himself and you might not get much. Read a piece of his about rain and you might just find something.


"...when it rains I picture the droplets splashing off trees leaves, grass blades and the cemented pave ways of my lawn splashing with glimmering cymbal sounds.
I Listen to the pathways that the winds blow making the rains sway, as though wind running its hands through the clouds hair.
And as I listen, deeper, I hear the silent whispers as drop cuts through air so easily as though coal on ice.
I hear some of the rain slide off the roof edge fall in a simple synchrony to the trench below where the waters twirl in a dizzying whirl of circular foamy white as though to imitate clouds from whence they came.
 I inch closer to listen and watch droplets whisper and dance to their pitter patter on earth.

Even closer I inch as drips of rain rest on my skin tickling my feet like soft feather caress..."

and when you think it's just about the rain...


"The rain. Mystery of my memory.
Why do I love your speak when your speak drenches me?
Makes my back tire with heavy soaked cloth?

Why do i cherish your cold embrace, your chilled touch, and longed for icy kiss when this is just a fleeting moment?

Is it for the fact that the icy kiss freezes my heart from feel?
The cold embrace help chase away all sense of thought?
And the chilled touch blind the eye from loves sight?


If so then rain hail upon my soul.
Send the icy cold blocks of tiny imperfection to cut through my skin and place there within the knowledge that imperfection is the beginning of perfection,
And that fruits sprout not from a stem but from the dirt.

Let the lightening strike shock my soul to life
And thunderous bellows send my fears bellow.
May the thick dark tufts of cottoned clouds shelter me from the blinding light bright ridiculing my sight!
And hide the stars that go about tainting the coal night that shelters me from the day light.

But now it drizzles, and I wish it could rain.
Deep thick sheets coming down endlessly,
Drowning out the voices so that I may be wrapped in its thick icy embrace,
Numbing my nerves with every drop…
Inch by inch
Until I am immovable like a rugged mountain."
Jason Ntaro


This, my friend is intimate with the rain and takes me back to when I was a child and just walked in the rain. Rain, mystery of my memory. Rain.

Saving myself for you

Dear 'the one',

 I have been told over and over again, that what I am supposed to have with you is supposed to be special. There are things about me only you are supposed to know, certain parts only you are supposed to see. So I have been saving these parts for you. There is this place in my heart that is reserved for only you, the more I learn how much of a treasure you truly are meant to be, the bigger it becomes. You see, that is my secret place, sacred grounds, a place only you have the key to and that is where I am saving all these things for you.

I have had a few attempted break in's but that only woke me up. I made the security stronger, no one is going to take what is yours my love. I will fight to the death before I let what is yours become as though for the common individual. I have moved my treasure, our treasure to a further place, we might have to work harder to get to it but it will be worth it, won't it? We shall have each other, the journey will only serve to bring us closer, we shall earn each other's trust because then we shall see that it is us, you and I against the world.

My poker face is getting better, some have been trying to pry information out of me but I will not let them in, they can't even take a peek. After all, when you come along, I will not have to be with them anymore. They complain that I don't give of myself but they don't understand. If I give of myself to them, what will be left for you. Before another gets any bit of me, you must have it. They do not understand that me giving of myself to them is tainting what I have so long kept for only you. There are stories meant for only your eyes, Like how I struggled to get over the fact that I grew up fatherless. They want me to share them.

"it helps with the healing" they say
Why don't they just understand that my wounds are in my safe place? I cannot go there, they are not allowed there, only you.

On my birthday this year, I wanted to do something brave; I wanted to travel and try new foods, dance in the rain and perform poetry on a stage, with an audience. I also wanted to sing in a choir. I stopped myself. How dare I do all this without you? All this can wait,my passions can wait, I have made the lock a little bit tighter, my dreams shall wait. We shall do all of it together. Life can wait.

I had a not so good day today. I was sad and alone, something terrible happened on my way to work this morning. It broke my heart and put a dent in my spirit. I almost got the phone to call Nandi but you will be proud to learn that I didnot. She's not you. This, my vulnerability, my weakness, my pain, only you are allowed to see.

I am saving myself for you my love, there are so many open hands before me, open arms that want to embrace me, experience me. They don't understand,
I am saving myself for you.

Dear me,

Porcelain

Today I learnt that this is an adjective.
 Maybe not a real one;
one of those noun adjectives, like clay
 it is a type of clay used for making fine china.
I learnt that such china is so fine that it is made for delicate hands.
When held up to the light, you can almost see through it.

My porcelain,
This word is both a synonym and antonym to you.
Delicate? The hands that have held you haven't always been.
They have left you with scratches,
cracks and mismatched patterns from patching yourself together.

Very rarely do they see you.
They don't look at YOU.
They don't hold you up to the light.
So the fine lines and patterns they miss;
The finesse with which you've been fashioned by your maker,
Your true essence rooted in your origins
perfected by your paths,
chosen and provided.

My porcelain
Need my hands be delicate?
They've bled on you a couple of times,
when trying to pick up your pieces I've been cut.
Can my hands remain delicate?

At first, my vision was cloudy.
I knew not how to see, you.
Holding you to the light never occurred to me.
But I sought, because I knew,
you are much more than your scars,
your repute or your growl.

I hold you to the light.
Through the cracks I see,
what I've always known you to be,
a precious gem that deserves to be treasured.
To be held delicately in loving hands.
My porcelain.

Letting go...

It seems any blogger worth their salt has to blog about the end of one year and the beginning of another. So many messages in the air about old things and new things and all that it going through my mind is..
"it was monday, then it was tuesday. Doesn't change much"

However ,I do feel the urge to succumb to peer pressure. I feel I have been lukewarm for quite sometime. No, not my body temperature, but my life temperature. A good friend of mine recently told me that she thinks I'm always holding back; as if I'm afraid of fully being me. Maybe she's right and maybe she's wrong, either way I need a 2013 project.

I am one of those people who argues better with people after they are gone or who has no problem giving you a piece of my mind, but in my head. I am always left wanting, wishing, planning...
To give more the next time
"..it will be better. They better not try it next time because, boy will they get what is coming to them..."
Every once in a while I run into that one person who actually shakes me up until I explode. It is not their fault. They somehow know that there is something within and some have learnt that the only way out is to shake it out, so shaking they shake. The experience always leaves me tired and a tad bit sad. Sad upon realising how much was kept inside and how intense it actually was. I am starting to believe that I am not allowing myself to fully enjoy anything, to live in the moment and not think too much about my next step.

I want to let go and fully be me. I am not sure I know how. This morning I recieved word about a job, I fell in love with it at first sight. I could not wait for my lunch break to edit my resume and tailor it to wow. I knew it was for me. However, the second and third sight scared me a little; that is when I saw all the other requirements that I thought I did not measure up to.I whispered to myself
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me..."
Another voice asked me to be realistic.

I am letting go and allowing myself to fall head first, nothing held back. Keep your fingers crossed for me, I am sending in my application. It is about time I started living.

Now, isn't that profound enough for the beginning of a year?