poem

We sat beside each other

Staring at the excited fire

The smell of the sea

The cry of the old crows.

We sat and breathed in unison

As waves crushed against the reefs

As the fishermen let out their boats

We linked fingers and watched the stars.

And a snaked slithered by quick

And the fire was burning out

We were getting drowsy

While the moon floated further east

While the stars dimmed and faded out

You turned and touched my face

I wiped the wetness under your eye

The night was running out

Your voice was shaky

I didn’t dare speak.

(haven’t decided on the last line yet.)

28^th June 2008

Note: I saw a cute boy, looking like a model without even trying, wished he was my bro.

I am a Cushite

A few weeks ago, we had a Kenyan hip hop artist come to Limkokwing.

I had planned to go home right away that day because I brought my laptop to school and it’s about 10.5 kilos so it’s not fun moving around with it but, since I was three news articles short, I decided to hang around and see if I could get a story.

One girl came up to me and asked- where are you from?
I said Kenya, and she said, oh, really?
I managed to get a few shorts and the tour guide said- group photo everyone. I got a spot right behind the superstar.
The following day I was with my friends and opened the site to proudly show them the picture since they didn’t attend the big event, and they are in film class so they prefer make believe, and I don’t think the artist gets air play in their country.
The group picture was there alright, but I wasn’t.
Haiya, They photoshoped me out .
I wonder why? One of them said
Maybe they didn’t like your two finger peace sign. Hahaha.
That’s what you get for telling people you’re from Frances Town.
So that was it. The news was-Kenyan fans welcome artist-
I always have to answer questions like these.

Where are you from.
Kenya .
Really?
Yes.
What tribe?
That’s when I say, no actually I’m from Northern Sudan.
Which is true anyway, that’s what they told me I History class,something like that.

Other times I have people speaking to me in Setswana and pidgin English.

In Kenya, people called me-shumari-(somali).
One time, in Mitero primary school, there was a new teacher and he was gonna beat me for-putting chemical in my hair-.

It’s all cool. I don’t mind for being mistaken as a Fulani from Nigeria, or a Kalanga from Botswana.

The other day someone told me hey , how come you’re growing so thin? And I happily replied, no I haven’t changed, you’ve just grown fat. I have to say I felt all good inside because finally, I’m no longer offended when someone comments on how thin I am.