THE A-Z OF SODOM

THE A-Z OF SODOM

Nick Quach

Apples,
These things that stirred the minds of the Boys,
Cats caught in rat traps,
Dogs,
What they were called by their friends,
Maybe if the Elephants had tusks,
Then Freights would only be of Goats,
Enroute slaughter,
Or House building materials.

Look at Tom spilling Ink in Hallo Children,
Kindness turned to it’s owner like the presidential Jet,
Babies too lazy to head shoulder Knees and toes,
Late letter let down to the letter,
Maybe if Man wasn’t too interested in having than being,
Then Nets in the sea would be of Man raise Man society.

Oval room enroute Harambee House,
Packed lunch in imported motorcade,
Enough to Quench all’s thirst,
But swam in by the few Rogue,
Silence of the loud,
Sign language noisier than the Talk.

Umbrella Budalangi and South C please,
Humid Vacuum suffocating serikali saidia,
What When Why Who ,
Mali nyingi nyumbani why Xenophobia,
The Yatch got holes,
Zero double standards for Kurunzinza.

…rolling wheels

ATIENO CHANDORE

ATIENO CHANDORE

Nick Quach.

Crack of her lips,
Like the banana she nibs,
Crack of the smile she keeps,
Atieno chandore.

A flower afraid of losing scent,
Picked from the petal of unworthy descent,
No sugar to swallow nor bile to vent,
Atieno chandore.

Attention from the phone,
Attention from friends while gone,
News and sport zone,
Atieno chandore.

What not and what to touch,
Is the touch up subtle or too much,
6 inches to family dinner or to church,
Atieno chandore.

6:30 Gabriella, not yet,
7:30 Papa Shirandula, not yet,
8:30, La Tempestad, not yet,
9:30 The Trend, not yet,
10:30 Teresa, not yet,
11:30 TCM, not yet,
12:30 Afrocinema repeat,  not yet.

Feet cold,
Despair untold,
Fear bold,
Atieno chandore.

…rolling wheels

KIDOLE CHA KATI

KIDOLE CHA KATI

Nick Quach

They,
They give you sympathetic faces,
But burst in laughter at your back,
They,
Call to ask how you are,
Not because they care,
But because they want to confirm you won’t ask them for money ,
They,
Clap and cheer,
So that they cannot hear your presentation,
They,
Yes them.

They,
Take pictures with you,
Not to keep the memory,
But to post on Facebook that they knew you when you pass on,
They,
Ask how much your shoe or hair costs,
Not to buy like yours,
But to estimate how much you earn,
They,
Ask about your family,
Just to confirm if you’re on the verge of a separation,
These people.

They tell you money never brings respect,
Yet they judge and treat you per how much you’re worth,
They hush when you ask if you’re fattening,
Just to backbites how ARVs have back fired on you,
They,
Fake excitement when you ask for opinion about your song,
But scream on how much you should stop doing music,
When you’re not listening.

They,
They that think that standing and sitting repeatedly at mass on Sunday,
Makes them straight,
They that think laying thirty women a night makes them cocks,
They,
They who envision their friend’s sisters from the waist down,
Thick like the sewer of a slum,
Guardless like a snail’s underbelly.

To them,
Them that know they should be here,
The A to Z of mediocrity, hypocrisy, beaurocracy and autocracy,
Like kaka I say,
Kidole cha kati.

…rolling wheels

MWANA

MWANA

Nick Quach

It’s been a long while coming,
Since you came from the bending huts and begging hearts,
Your nine siblings say hi,
They all miss Mwana.

Your sister Patricia just enrolled for high school,
Am sure you do not know,
Because aren’t you always busy,
I thought of calling,
But your phone ever goes unanswered,
That’s apart from the seventeen hours a day it’s normally off,
Even when we were contributing for your cousin,
Who is now at university,
That woman that answers your phone did not notify you that we called.

Mwana,
Did you hear Evans is now married,
We hear you have a son with a daughter of another land,
Is it true you are not married yet?
Mum the other day had eye problems,
These people from Lions told her to come to the city,
For check up,
But because we could not find her accommodation in the big city where you live,
Mum can only know you through your voice.

Mwana we miss how you made eating oil less veggies easy,
Or when you made sugarless porridge sweet,
Well,
There still isn’t sugar,
But we manage.
Mercy told me she saw you on TV,
That you’re now a celebrity?
Franc says those shoes you promised to buy him,
You will have to make it number 10 ,
Because his foot is now double the size you took.

Mwana,
Grace your puppy sister,
Wanted to use the textbook you brought after your form four,
But she couldn’t,
Because you said you’d open your box when you came for your results,
Which we are still waiting.

Oh Mwana,
Zed wants to use this pencil for her homework,
I just wanted to tell you,
Come and build a Simba,
The five of us behind you are ready.

…rolling wheels

LETTER TO MY DAD I

LETTER TO MY DAD I

Nick Quach

As I write this letter,  do not mind about my handwriting,
Because the piece of paper I write on has been soaked in tears,
As I write the ink that I use is the blood that I have shed over the years,
I do not know where to begin because the point of this letter is hidden in my fears,
But I will wait at the end of the tunnel until the fog of the dawn clears.

I think of you as a shooting star because out there you are great but to me you’re falling,
Everytime around you I felt like Jesus around Judas because you were never loyal,
Not to say I was a saint either but however lame a prince is they’re still royal,
You saw me through the ‘not good enough’ lenses,
Maybe that’s why I held onto Mum always because you and me couldn’t mend fences,
No offense but I hate pretence so I’ll say to me you’re past tense.

I never wanted to be a soldier like you,
But the only hope I got is that maybe,
I would get shot and be nursed by Mother Teresa,
Maybe,
While in the jungle I would meet a Greenbelt tied around a tree and signed Wangari Maathai,
Maybe the gunshots would make a rhythm for me to recite my Maya Angelou pieces,
We feel faith when it touches our hearts,
Because it’s only our hearts that can have the faith,
So instead of adding more guns to my heritage,
I choose peace for me.

This letter is to inform you that am happy for your dreams for me but the watch on my wrist says it’s 2015,
To my sisters you were like a virus because every time they thought they knew you,
You scrapped the mask to unleash a new you.
This first letter is to tell you that I finally found me so,
Follow me or hang on me or be my shadow because the lights are going to fall on me,
Written and signed son.

…rolling wheels

KENYANS PLEASE STEP ASIDE

This rivetting rib cracking original comedy show by Heartstrings Entertainment is back. Directed by Sammy Mwangi assisted by Ndenga, the 5 shows remaining promise to shake up the stores of laughter in you. 8th-10th of May 2015 at Alliance Francaise, Loita Street.

…rolling wheels

WHAT ABOUT US

WHAT ABOUT US

Nick Quach

Knees bruised in reverence,
Drops pattering corrugated roofs,
Clouds darker by the drop,
I see the farmers rejoice,
They who love the smell of rained on earth,
I see them glee,
But like a forcefully penetrated purity,
Like a scattered nest,
I say what about us,
We who live in poor drainage areas,
We without housewarmers,
What about us,
With sinking houses.

Idealists gathering,
Revolution looming,
Forceful change in sight,
They see a future,
They see hope,
But I ask what about us,
We who will have to die,
Go down history as collateral damage,
What about we the sons of unimportant people,
Trying to make names for our children,
What about our wives and mothers,
What about us.

I hear the G8 pollute,
Fossil fuel instead of the expensive alternative energy,
Industrialization,
Global warming,
Ozone layer destruction,
Carbon dioxide,
What about us,
We who know nothing,
About Kyoto protocol,
And Conference of Parties,
Or our bargain on the credit market,
Copenhagen,
What about us,
Who only wait at the death point.

Ku Klaxx Klan,
Deacons for defence,
Mau Mau,
ISIS,
Boko Haram ,
Jihad,
Freedom,
Xenophobia,
What about us,
With no religious,
Or social,
Or continental,
Or political alienation,
What of us,
Caught between your senseless struggles,
For battles we don’t believe in,
What about us.

When you will step on the beauty of a flower,
Or abuse the innocence of a butterfly,
When you will diffuse the aroma of the waterfall,
And oil the green of the tree cover,
I ask again,
What about us.

…rolling wheels

8 MONTHS CRAVING LIFE.

8 MONTHS CRAVING LIFE

Nick Quach

The wrinkles on her face,
The tire in her heart,
The hopelessness in her vision,
Rome down.

Like a doctor with a dead patient,
Like a girl with foul breath on her first date,
Like when STL says,
Kenyatta Kibaki and Moi ‘nawaonyesha kidole’.

Like a makanga,
With a flat tyre,
After receiving money,
Like a traffic officer on a rainy day,
Like a barren called for a baby shower.

The smell of fresh earth after rain,
Washed away like life after global warming,
Just like 5 seconds before death,
Recapping unavailable second chances.

Lightning has just flashed,
The rumble is coming,
She closes her eyes,
Waters of the heavens just broken,
She is 8 months and craving life.

…rolling wheels

PLEASE NEREAH, DON’T ABORT MY BABY

PLEASE NEREAH, DON’T ABORT MY BABY

Nick Quach

Please Nereah,
I know you’re pregnant,
From the pale face in the morning,
To your extreme moodswings,
Your cravings,
It is all over you,
You carry my baby.

Nereah,
I don’t want you to keep the baby for me,
I know our love is not enough,
I know you don’t trust me enough,
But please,
Don’t abort my baby.

Please Nereah,
I don’t want to tell you things you know,
Oh,
He might become a president,
Oh,
She might be a scholar,
No,
I want your heart to spare my baby,
Oh Nereah.

Please Nereah,
Help me give my father his father,
So that I could gladden his old heart,
Spare my little one,
So that I can see my eyes in hers,
I do plead,
Do not abort my Baby.

Nereah,
Give me a future,
Give me a reason to live,
A reason to work,
The joy of the little laughter,
The fragile little fingers,
The ambitious eyes,
Don’t deny me this joy Nereah.

But if you do,
Remember its little voice flushing,
It’s tiny heart crushing,
It’s anxious brain shutting,
Do remember the legacy that you have diffused,
And the happiness you have refused,
Remember that even Sauti Sol,
Or Amos and Josh,
Or me,
Were enough to convince you,
Not to abort my child.

…rolling wheels

IS IT JUST ME…

IS IT JUST ME…

Nick Quach

Is it just me,
Who find those who call,
With nothing to say,
‘I was just saying hi’
Boring and time wasting?

Is it just me,
Or is it true,
That those who keep complaining,
Of how boring programs are,
How bad food is,
Negative negative,
Are themselves boring to death?

Is it just me,
Who prefers loud music,
In matatus at night,
Rather than the silly uncensored conversations,
Drunkards have,
And the jokes?

Is it just me,
Who deletes a song from my phone,
Once I hear a jirani’s kid,
Singing the lyrics right?

Is it just me,
Who hates having conversation with pretty girls,
Because the first thing they think,
Is that am hitting on them?

Is it just me,
Or it is true,
Than when I alight a matatu in traffic to walk,
It always moves faster than me?

Is it just me,
Who thinks that me,
Can never be anything else,
But just me?
Is it just me.

…rolling wheels