Ways in Which Nairobi Half Life moved me. An open letter

Ways in Which Nairobi Half Life moved me. An open letter

I read all the time that WE ARE ONE. Sometimes I practice this truth. Most times I forget. I let the cares of my life, my struggles, my hustle, my dreams, my desires drown me in the sea of self. Inevitably, a drowning person will fight to break to the surface, and on these forced trips to breathe in, I find there is more to life than self. My problems and cares are not the end all of reality.

Tonight (as in last Thursday 22^nd Nov 2012) was such a night ( I was a little afraid of the EMO that is this blog so I been hesitating. But I’m over myself now)

I just got back from an all-important strategy and planning meeting. So full of well-intentioned and self-serving ideas for how to further promote my ideas. Then I went to watch Nairobi Half Life. I agree, I am late to the party. Never you mind that. This blog post is directly because I am moved to my core (spoilers alert. If you have not watched it..I'm about to say some things so stop)

First, I am moved by the sheer brilliance of the script, of the actors, the directors, the makeup, the set design, the soundtrack. I sat in the movie theatre and ached. This is what art looks like when its real and its for real. Art is raw. It is sincere. It is light and intense simultaneously. It is true and we know it because we instinctively connect. This is why they say art is powerful. I sat there completely immersed in this movie that 'me' did not exist.

I became Mwas. Even now I taste the bitter sweet headiness of chasing a dream. Mwas made me remember how many times I am so naïve, so clueless, so fearless. Mwas made me think of those decisions & actions I refuse and fear to fully own because of the mess I made, and yet I cannot take back because of the mess I made. In those moments I was watching the movie..and indeed in this one as I write this..I think of all those people who come up to me/facebook me/write me an email saying they want to sing but don't know what to do next. They want my help but I hardly know what to say or do. Sometimes, I make suggestions- voice classes, choir, BGV for a band, intern for a musician. Most times, I feel terrified to say a thing. I am no saviour. I have no answers. I can't fix anyone’s life. Often, musicians at all stages of their career ask me to let them play at Blankets & Wine. Some are good- they get in. Some are bad. Some just need more time. Some I can't see how to schedule alongside what currently exists. Then comes the dread! I cannot bear to say these things to them. After all, who the hell I'm I to say these things? I have been dropped off a national singing competition. I have been thrown off stage by a marketing director who hated my songs after the first min. I have sung off key on stage. I have had an audience stare at me in confusion. I have had my heart broken and my confidence shattered a hundred times. And I became better for it- eventually. But I never forget the way it feels when you're at the bottom and just trying to catch a break. So, I say nothing. I spend endless hours second guessing myself..what if they are the next Sauti Sol or The Beetles? What if I am missing something? I'm I missing something? I hardly ever really know. My life feels like an elaborate guessing game. Mwas- a boy from 'nowhere' and with nothing but his heart on his sleeve took me all the way into the very centre of mine. So, first up..this is for every rapper, every singer, every instrumentalist who ever asked me for an opinion or a chance. Every one of you who has had the idea to share your dream with me. Please know I heard you. I recognize you. I carry that part you shared in my being. You affected/affect me because I am like you. Longing for the same things you do: expression, acceptance,validation,fame&fortune,hapiness,mastery,legendary status. I too spend endless hours seeking for direction, guidance, gigs, lyrics, melodies. I battle the same fears: what if I don't make it? I'm I good enough or any good at all? Is this it? Will I ever get to the end of this rainbow? To every one of you that has felt hurt by my feedback or worse, felt ignored by my silence- please forgive me. People- you and I included- only do what they think they can, based on what they think they know. And just like me, your dreams are valid. Your hope is real. And the best I can say is if you determine that its meant to be..then even the gates of heaven could not stop you.

In the meantime between now and your big break..the world will shake you, but it cannot break you.

Then there was Oti and his whole crew. YOLO. Living la vida loca. Going down a road whose end is guaranteed. Thug life. And there I was. One with them. I have never robbed anyone let alone killed anything bigger than a cockroach. But my father was murdered at our gate while driving in from friday evening mass, minding his own business. So Oti takes me there. I see Oti being so reckless with his life, high on the power trip of a gun. Of course, there was no other way it could end right? You live by the gun- you die by it. So why do I flinch when he is killed? I flinch. I did not want him to die like that. I have no problem with death-its a lifetimes guarantee(literally) but what a wasted life! What a broken heart for Mwas, for Oti's family, for life! My dad..he lived an amazing life. His life was full. He was fulfilled. He found his place on earth and I am sure he found his place in the stars. But what about Oti! What about my dads killer who was naturally gunned down in a most dramatic and traumatic police operation!What about these lives and all other lives attached to theirs! How funny that even as I remain connected to my dad in death, I would -just for a moment thanks to Oti- be connected to my dads killer too. And what poetic justice that I would think these thoughts and feel these things on my fathers ten year memorial. Ha! (AGAIN this was meant to be up last Friday morning)

I was Mwas. I was Amina. I was Oti. I was part of the cast. Part of the crew. Part of this mad, massive story/reality. Part of each singers/drummer/poet/instrumentalists dream. Part of my father. Part of his death and its circumstance. I was situations, decisions, cause, effect. I was me. And I was not me. And I was more me. I was all-we.

How perfect Nairobi Half Life is! How perfect life is.

Feelin It Lyrics (Muthoni The Drummer Queen)

(intro)

Yo! This is Muthoni The Drummer Queen,

See, I don’t usually do this but…

As far as I can see,

I need to enforce some things by royal decree,

Shut down your yackity mackity smack,

Listen up son. . . this one is for you,

(verse 1)

First things first,

Call up the mortuary,

Tell ‘em on this track, murder of the century,

And for my kindness I’ll pay for the obituary,

Sorry for the mess, I do this too habitually,

Second up, I propose a toast,

Raise your glass high from Nairobi to Coast,

See I don’t need to brag and I don’t wanna boast,

But I will cut you down, for acting like a toast,

Ati eh umeingia club na kadem kabarbie,

Kamestand kasafi,

Kanaitwa Fulani,

Na ni nusu mlami,

Na nywele mabegani unadhani eti kwamba nita jali,

Jamani

I didn’t know eti uko funny,

For wasting your time baby. . .

Pole samahani,

I thought I told ya,

 I’ll never be your honey,

It’s irrelevant to me about,

Your car, your crib, your money,

This is not me playing hard to get

This is me saying that I’m hard to get,

It’s in my blood running through my veins royal,

Media, tell them how I do super loyal,

And to be clear, I don’t deal with potential,

Wanna step to me?

Better have credeeeentials. . .

Like ‘so special so special so special’,

(chorus)

Heeeey yoooo,

Where you at, where my party people at

Heeeey yoooo,

Raise your cup high toast to the good life,

Heeeey yoooo,

Itakuwaje, boss itakuwaje,

Heeeeey yoooo,

Now we feelin’ it really really feelin’ it,

Her highness, miss flyness,

Lyrically is a weapon of mass violence,

Operating with a Double O 7 license,

Relegating all your chitter chatter jabber nonsense,

Now let’s be clear, on who they really fear,

Who rocks the party hard from the front to the rear,

It’s the drummer mama,

On the club banger,

Hang you out to dry like clothes on a hanger,

Ati eh umeingia kwenye booth,

Na ka-gold kwenye tooth,

Na tu-dem a kina Ruth,

Ati ndio waki-sooth,

Mpaka umezima lights,

Ati ndio mood i–right,

Ka Malawi ati ndio uwe flight,

Jamani,

No wonder all your songs sound weak,

You wouldn’t sound better if we all gave a week...to you,

Truth said I got better things to do,

Step aside son real army coming through,

To all my singers, in the ‘bafu choir’,

All my people strumming on the air guitar wire,

Chair table dashboard, drummer’s on fire,

Making trumpet harmonies on your head wryer

(bridge)

it’s a felony, how we make this sweet sweet. . .

melodies

bring the beat back yeeeeaaaahhhh!

(chorus) X2

Vile Inafaa - Muthoni The Drummer Queen ft Octopizzo

(intro)

Muthoni Drummer Queen. . . 

Octopizzo number nane. . . .

Dillie!

(verse1 - Octopizzo)

(DQ)    Hello Hello, Kumbe huku ni matanga

(OCTO)    Itabidi wasanii waanze kujipanga

(DQ)    Drummer queen octopizzo, ni upanga

(OCTO)    Tunakata shingo leo hakuna ujanja

(DQ)   Legooo

(OCTO)

YGB I black out like Eminem,

Namba nane I stand out coz I’m in the fame,

(Shhh) Don’t shout, I’m in the game,

Grain ka silos lines ka grain,

Heavy weight ka kilos, but on air ka plane,

Cadburys ka milo na na-run through veins,

Juu, rap bila mi ni ka jungle bila simba,

Monthly nikiflow ka dem bila mimba.

Miti ni dawa baby uliza Loliondo,

*eff duffel bag mi hu-roll na kiondo,

The rap rebel, punguza base eka treble,

Maindi ndio staple, ugali juu ya table,

Long live the King niko connected kama cable,

Young Gifted and Black ka eight ball kwa pool table,

Too many men, not enough balls

Namba nane baby I got. . eight balls!!

(chorus (DQ))

On and,
On till early morning,

This is how we're rollin',

Uptown downtown callin',

Vile Inafaa!

On and,

On till early morning,

This is how we're rollin',

Uptown downtown callin',

Vile Inafaa!

 

(verse 2 - Drummer Queen)

Wanadhani ngoma poa ati ndio wajibambe,

Kumbe ndio kupatia msoto notice ini hame,

Kumbe bora kuflow hata kama mi ka-barbie,

Kuchanganya ma accent kama mimi mlami,

Na uki-measure flow kama day mi ni ngware,

Kupiga marhymes boka kama fundi wa mawe quarry,

Aih...bauss lady,

Eh...si usare,

Haiezi mpaka mtambue nani ni mkare,

Nilikua na haraka, so nikatoka jana,

By the time ulinotice, ilikuwa already mchana,

Sai uko kwenye traffic bumper to bumper,

Ati “jam nakam"...ati "jam nakam”,

By the time ukifika itakuwa too late,

Nilishajaza show from the front to the gate,

A rapper drummer singer I already sealed your fate,

If I was you I would leave the game at this rate,
Ha!

(chorus )  X2

verse 3

(OCTO)

I'm the man with the base bro, uliza Sony,

Madem nawakulisha pembe then nawaacha so horny,

Wengine wako njaa mtaani they still yawning,

Im a child soldier so please stop Kony,

Haters no strings attached...wifi,

Fans five fingers up...hi five,

Kimbelembele kwa hii place hauskii haifai,

Why lie I’m the real deal for now good bye,

(DQ)

I like to roll deep with the dead, presidents,

Chilling in my wallet, kicking it, residents,

So I can get everything I want, precedent,

All my people living real good, yeah it's evident,

A bauss lady, personality...eminent,

Brought up in the 254...represent,

Raised up with that Nairoberry...temperament,

Cross me it'll be to your...detriment!

(chorus)   X2

Muthoni Drummer Queen

Octopizzo number nane

(OCTO)- Baby

(DQ) Dillie. . . .

LEGOO!!

Let it burn. Breathe deep. Stay still. Elevate. Upgrade.

I fall down hard; 60 kgs and counting, plus the cares of the world stuck on my back, we come crashing down of God’s earth.
It shakes, but it does not break.

I lie still, not moving, not breathing for a while.

The view from the here seems familiar. I know this place. I know this feeling. I have cried these hot tears brewing at the back of my throat, the front of my chest.
This scent, defeat, I know it well. For all my best intentions, I am back at the place I was before. This cycle never ends.

I lie still, not moving, crushed and burning on god’s good earth.

Turns out that the world is a treacherous place, that words often spoken in the dark, in hushed tones between lovers hearts are just words, and agreements made in broad daylight in offices backed by currency are just intentions that are mostly negated, and that for all the will in the world, the pursuit of my happiness on stage and in life is connected to individuals outside my desire or ability to control.

The loneliness weighs heavy on me, as heavy as a leaf must be to a team of ants. Nothing could be more monumental.

I lie still, not moving, crushed and burnt out on this unyielding earth.

Gravity denies me the freedom to soar in the sky where we laugh in sunshine and speak in Technicolor.

A sequence appears in my head. On loop. its goes...

Let it burn. Breathe deep. Stay still. Elevate. Upgrade.

I do not know what it means, but my weary heart desires reprieve.

Please be so.

An open letter to the musicians who went before us

An open letter to the musicians who went before us

Re: Stop making music a free commodity

Dear artists who went before us,
First I begin by thanking you very much for all the work you put in getting the main stream masses of this here our Kenya come around to the idea of home grown, home made music. Thank you for the continued war with Radio and TV stations to get Kenyan content on high rotation. Thank you for investing in better videos and such promo material. It would seem we are getting somewhere. It would seem.

Now, onto the little matter of making music free commodity. You ask me how? I tell you how.

The way its meant to work is that fans are supposed to support the career of an artist by buyng the music, the merchandise, the concert tickets, the artists apps and all that good stuff that is the artists and associated with the artist. But look at the scenario right now in this here Kenya. Corporate Kenya as well as Club owners negotiate with artists for their performance fees and most times pay upfront and what may be considered a good amount. They then spend time and MONEY to advertise and host the event which is FREE for the public. Together so far? Stay with me please..Take Musician X. Say I watch him today at the concert Face off where the entry is Ksh one bamba 50, then I watch him in another week at the COE constitution review activation for free, then I watch same artist X at another activation road show event where the cost is a further Ksh FREE. Now, my claim is that im going to all this venues because this is my favourite artist in the world, but I have never needed to pay a penny to see him. So when his album does come out..my mind set is already on FREE. I mean think about this, whatever I don't get on the radio for FREE, I can catch at his gig FOR FREE so in my head my favorite musician in the world= FREE. No thanks to buying his brand new album for Ksh 500. which, by the way, is exactly what it will cost me for a double Gin& Tonic at my favourite club in westlands, where incidentally the entry is FREE and the music that is mostly off my favotites artists portfolio..is a further FREE.

Dear Musicians who went before us, Mainstream music=FREE to the Kenyan audiences. This is not a way to build a sustainable career. This is the short cut to the shortest shelf life of music ever

Dear musicians who went before us, this strategy needs to change. We need you to get into the performing circuit. We need you to organise your own gigs, and put some work into the live act and then charge entrance at the door so that fans can relate you with a worth. We need you to negotiate with event organisers so that you are not on the billing of free shows more than thrice a year. You deserve our support, now make us make that mental connection that reads my favourite musician= VALUE.

MIKONO KWENYE HEWA

Written by M.Ndonga

Chorous:
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Na wengine mikono chini ndani ya mashati/
Na wengine mikono ndani ya mifuko wazi/
Na wengine mikono kwenye chupa na glassy/
Na wengine mikono up juu na kweney hewa/

Bargames/ type A bargins/
Willing buyers, wiling sellers/
Her name is Stella, looking at the fella, he trying to figure out what to tell her/
Smiles/ hidden agendas/
Each thinks the other to be a pretender/
But they exchange the names/ and they play the games,/with a poker face/ they make a pact on their undone acts/
Now ndio apate physical elevation/ lazima kwanza atoe physical motivation/
Like drinks to get the conversation going and drinks/ to get the party really flowing/
Up and away suddenly it’s a new day / he knew a good lay is some tequila away/
He rolls to his side with a thought on his mind/
cos the last thing he heard was the MC say/

Chorous:
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Na wengine mikono chini ndani ya mashati/
Na wengine mikono ndani ya mifuko wazi/
Na wengine mikono kwenye chupa na glassy/
Na wengine mikono up juu na kweney hewa/


Marriage/ type A bargain/ willing buyers willing sellers of tomorrow/
Forever is much too long to be alone plus hidden agendas/Like/
Too much history/ too much ambiguity/ a need for binding social security/
So they exchange the names/ with a pompous act/ they make a pact/
Now ndio apate physical elevation/ lazima kwanza atowe physical motivation/
Like a house/to get her and her family talking/ cos the house is in a status quo location/
Up and away/ suddenly it’s a new day/ she knew a good life was a name away/
She rolls to her side with a smile on her mind and pumps the song where the MC says/

Chorous:
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Na wengine mikono chini ndani ya mashati/
Na wengine mikono ndani ya mifuko wazi/
Na wengine mikono kwenye chupa na glassy/
Na wengine mikono up juu na kweney hewa/


Na wengine, wengine mna jidai/
Na wengine, pengine mmesota/
Na wengine, pengine mnachora/
Na wengine/ pengine mnaroga


Dara ra ra ra….

Chorous:
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Mikono kwenye hewa/ Mikono kwenye hewa/
Mikono up juu na kwenye hewa/
Na wengine mikono chini ndani ya mashati/
Na wengine mikono ndani ya mifuko wazi/
Na wengine mikono kwenye chupa na glassy/
Na wengine mikono up juu na kweney hewa/

Mikono kwenye hewa/
Hewa…

SILENCE LYRICS

Written by M. Ndonga, J. A. Namu, S. Chege

This is what silence means/
This is what silence means/

When they walk into your house and/ sit at your table/
Eat your bread and drink your tea/
You won’t even know cos /you were sleeping/
They didn’t wake you/ from your dreaming/
Your dreams were colored in gold/

Chorus:
They will try and take everything from you/
Shout/ Make some noise/
So scream before they take away your voice too/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/
They will try and take everything from you/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/
So scream before they take away your voice too/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/

This is what silence means/
Remember, remember/
This is what silence means/
Remember, remember/7th July

When you’re walking down the street and/ buy the paper/
Turn on the radio/ watch the news/
Do you really see us when were matching into/
Clouds that sting for rights we thought we won for kids at home/
Do you really see what’s going on/

Chorus:
They will try and take everything from you/
Shout/ Make some noise/
So scream before they take away your voice too/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/
They will try and take everything from you/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/
So scream before they take away your voice too/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/

This is what silence means/
Haki yetu/
Haki yetu/

Kumbka kumbuka/ saba saba/
GSU tear gas town/
Sioni sababu/ machozi na damu/
Kuyasahau/Oh oh oh

The law does not allow for police brutality/
The police are not the judge and jury/ (Utumishi kwa wote)
They are trying to break your voice/
But it is powerful/ not even their blows can stop us
We are unbwogable
Why is my country so dark ( mulika mwizi)
Did you say you have an eight month old alone at home/ I was worried for my six year old/ and I for my 8 year old son/
And I for my 13 year old who is a candidate this year/
And Bilha does not talk/ She carries a baby she might lose in her womb (najihurumia kuwa mkenya)

Chorus:
They will try and take everything from you/
Shout/ Make some noise/
So scream before they take away your voice too/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/
They will try and take everything from you/
Shout/ scream/ make some noise/
So scream before they take away your voice too/

SAIDIA LYRICS

Written by S. Chege, M.Ndonga

Broken hearts/ from broken love/
That was meant to fill the half empty part of the glass/
Passing on down main street/
Dimmed eyes/ Jaded smiles/
Fading halos hanging over broken winged angels/
Passing on down main street/
And the loneliness from her broken nest/
Fills her heart with a fear that binds her wings/
If she closed her eyes she could be the wind/
Can you hear her soul crying/

Chorus:
Hear me/ help me/
Ninalia saidia saidia/
Ninalia saidia saidia/
Saidia/

Broken banks/ from broken backs/
Now broken dreams drowning in the shallow deep of their making/
Dragging on down main street/
And the preachers word/so often spoken/
Drags my shadow longer than the sun drags her rays across the earth/
Dragging on down main street/
He is frozen in a body that he barely understands/
Sinking in a life that he never even planned/
Hoping to receive with a closed fisted palm/
Can you hear his soul crying/

Chorus:
Hear me/ help me/
Ni nalia saidia saidia/
Ninalia saidia saidia/
Saidia/

These calloused hands/ these blistered feet/
In this 2X4 I just don’t fit/
I’m sweating and chaffing in this cruel heat/
I’m lost and found in this broken beat/
I’m living to be so in/ dying to be so out/
When will these ends ever meet/
I’m huffing and puffing against this wall/
I need/I need to let go/

Chorus:
Hear me/ help me/
Ni nalia saidia saidia/
Ninalia saidia saidia/
Saidia/

ROUNDOFF LYRICS

Written by M. Ndonga, S. Chege, R. Kiboy


Won't you bet your money on me/
Won't you place your money on three/
Won't you put your money on me/
Won't you bet your money on me/
Won't you place your money on Muthoni/

Uh, why do we always round it off/ why do we/
To, the closest decimal point or degree/
Uh, why don’t we explore/ why do we/
Assume that we know everything there is to know/ why do we/
Ingawa
yalivyo/ si hivyo (5times)

Chorus:
Won't you put your money on me/
Won't you bet your money on me/
Won't you place your money on three/
Have some fun and faith I'll surprise you

Won't you put your money on me/
Won't you bet your money on me/
Won't you place your money on Muthoni/

Uh, why is it every time they ask/ what's your name/
Its followed by where are you what do you do/
Uh, why do we always state a job/ why do we/
Think that it covers who we are/ uh, why do we/
Assume we know- why do we/
Everything there is- why do we/
Of a person by a title/
lakini
yalivyo-si hivyo (5times)

Chorus:
Won't you put your money on me/
Won't you bet your money on me/
Won't you place your money on three/
Have some fun and faith I'll surprise you/

Won't you put your, bet your, place your, money/
Money!/
Wont you put your bet your place your/
Money!/
Won't you put your, bet your, place your, money/
Money!/
Wont you put your bet your place your/
Money!/
Wont you put your bet your place your/
Money!/

Uh-uh-uh
Have some fun and faith I'll surprise you/
Money!/
Uh-uh-uh
Have some fun and faith I'll surprise you/
Money!/
Uh- uh-uh
Have some fun and faith I'll surprise you/
Money!

Chorus:
Won't you put your, bet your, place your, money/
Money!/
Won't you put bet place money/
Money!/
Won't you put your, bet your, place your, money/
Money!/
Uh-uh-uh-uh/
Uh-uh-uh-uh, I'll surprise you/
Won't you put your, bet your, place your, money/
Money!/
Won't you put bet place money/
Money!/
Won't you put your, bet your, place your, money/
Money!/

Have some fun and faith I'll surprise you/

ROUND OFF: The story

Yes, put everything that is orange in the orange box. Yes. Everything orange in the box labeled oranges. Because orange equals oranges.
Yes? What?what do you mean not orange? Well, that’s a shame.
But that’s fine we are accommodating, we know that Yellow is really just trying to find its way home. To orange.
And then we add it to the oranges.
Thank you.

HAPPY BREAKUP- The story:

Some argue that It is inherent. And also Generational. The sins of the father upon the son, and thank you very much eve, you and Adam achieved a lasting impression on even the unimagined human in 3027. Well done.
Others argue that it is taught to us, part of the socialisation needed to maintain the balance in this mad house paradise of fools where we own everything by god. Literally.

Me, I don't care for the theories, the theologies. I know it very well.
Guilt.
I know you as intimately as a sweater underarm knows an arm pit. Yes. Our romance? began early and has lingered. Freeze the frames of the past and you will find that it stained my good actions and imprinted its stench on the body of work I offered as daily justification for my existence (though I advice you waste none of your present digging in the archives of past me. I certainly don’t. Plus you will not find me there, I am already risen.)
Your fingers wrapped about my throat, you coated my triumphant declarations so they came out as shaky whispers. Where I deserved to reflect back the stars, you turned my eyes to the ground and cast my shine in dust. Half stating myself, half hating myself, I apologised where I was not sorry, confessed where I felt no remorse, marched on the spot when I was already on the next train to the next thing . And still you were insatiable, master of disguises. I found you in places I created to escape you. Like my sanity, like my prayers, like my future.

So now you have to go.

This song is for you Guilt.

HAPPY BREAKUP LYRICS

Written by M. Ndonga, J. A. Namu, S. Chege,


We need to talk.

Though we are bound at the throat/
and all my words are choked/
even though I gag I must tell you this/
when I last tried to find some happiness I found these signs instead/
that pointed past my better judgement, and around the way I felt/
I was up on crazy-street/took a left on insane avenue/
where I lost my bearing/ the very spot that I met you/
where doubt, fear and disappointment kissed and birthed your heaviness/
YOU corroded me/

Chorus:
Beneath me/ I see a deep green sea/whose water could be healing/a needed therapy/
Release my sanity/ wont deliver me/this pain is killing me/
Release my sanity!

We need to talk!

In this world of shadows you around me build/
You twist the facts I twist my acts/
Your rainless clouds nourish this earth like soil on which I toil/
And how I dig to break its surface/going on and round and round/
Now were back on crazy-street/taking lefts on insane avenue/
where I lost my bearing/ the very spot that I met you/
where doubt, fear and disappointment kissed and birthed your heaviness/
YOU CORRODED ME/

Chorus:
Beneath me/ I see a deep green sea/whose water could be healing/a needed therapy/
Release my sanity/this pain is killing me/wont deliver me/
Release my sanity!

5EVER LYRICS

Written by N. Ndonga, J. A. Namu, R. Kiboy

Birth.

IMEZALIWA (5 times)

This is a new day-oh/ in Swahili we say leo/
Here comes a new way-oh/ new code on the highway-oh/
From Nairobi mpaka lagos/

IMEKUBALIWA (5 times)

Up in your face/shurrup your face (5 times)

Hauwezi make!

Hauwezi make! (5 times)

Five is the new four/
local and global/ make room for one more/
some thing you ain't thought of/
umewachwa ukilala fo fo fo/

FIVE (5 times)

See it

Mo ngienda kumenya/
This is made in Kenya/
Specifically in Penya/
ambia Selector/
5ever sio reja reja/

Up in your face/ shurrup your face (5 times)

Hauwezi make!

HAUWEZI MAKE! (5 times)

IMETAMBULIWA (5 times)

5ever! (5 times)

HAITAULIWA (5 times)

Haiwezi wezi wezi wezi wezi die! (5 times)

Prikata pataka dum, Prikata patapating,
Up in your face/ shurrup your face

MAHABUBA LYRICS

Written by M. Ndonga


Wewe/ Nimpendaye/ ingawa/ bado hujanijia/
Bado/ imani/ Yangu ipo/ haijafifia/
Natuma/ Huu ujumbe/ Kwenye wimbo/ Kwako wewe/

Chorus:
Mahabuba/nakupenda mno/
Nakupenda mno/ nakupenda mno/

Dalili/ Za Mvua/ Ni Mawingu/ Za mapenzi ni mnong'ono/
Mtetemo/ wa roho/ N'do Ishara/ Penzi linakuja, Penzi linakuja, Penzi lina/
Kuja/ Ni tayari/ kupokea/ Huba/

Chorus:
Mahabuba/nakupenda mno/
Nakupenda mno/ nakupenda mno/

Namtakia awe buheri wa afya/
Na kwenye kilio mazito makubwa machungu mapana nipate kumbana/
Kwenye penzi letu tupate kuzama/
Moyo akili apate changanya/
Mawazo maneno mapya kukanganya/
Tuungane nafsi isoweza tengana/
Jitoa, toeka, boeka, achana/
Na-omba awe mwepesi kutizama/
Taratibu mpenzi muungwana/
Tayari penzi moja kuungama/
Kwenye shida na raha kuniandama/

Chorus:
Mahabuba/nakupenda mno/
Nakupenda mno/ nakupenda mno/

ON HOPE. Another Human Condition

Hope: i) a belief that something desired will happen,
ii)a person, a thing or circumstance that makes hope possible
Mahabuba: a Kiswahili term of endearment that could literally translate to my most beloved love.

To want something and consider it possible is the very nature and the fitting explanation of hope.
To create our fantasies and desire that there be a way to realise them is to hope.

We hope even when the odds are against us, when scientific facts are thrown at us, when we are stuck in the middle of nowhere with no charge in our phone battery.

Hope.

It would seem to me that often, what keeps us going is not knowledge, or even clarity, but hope.

There is something profound and stoic about hope. She is the reason a mother will pray for her hardcore criminal son or why a lover will fight to keep a marriage afloat, Hope. It is an irrational condition that has no substitute.

Now, considering I am very much human, I too have a never ending affair with hope. Hope is my mistress, and I am her slave. We are very well suited.
On the upcoming album "The Human Condition" we capture this condition on the song "Mahabuba." I was surprised at how easily I opened up to the co-writers and the producer on my own love in waiting fantasy.

I am a believer in love, and the possibility that in this incarnation, I will be reunited with the flesh of my flesh, and the bone of my bone. Yes, I said it. I believe in a soul mate. I observe that while we can choose to make the one we are with "the one,"I believe the "one" does exists out there. Together with the truth, and balance (speaking of which, whoever meets balance please tell her/him that she /him is wanted by me dead or alive, and quickly too!) That the one soul split into two, and the two into four, the four into six and so forth and so soul mitosis.

And I do think there is a difference between togetherness and oneness.

And so I hope that he be truly human, and yet walk with the confidence of a god. That he be whole and yet know that his soul is forever roaming until it will find its rest within mine. I hope that I stay open, hope that I remain un-jaded, hope that we find each other, hope that we can be together in this lifetime.

Hope that I am right.

Mahabuba...HOPE PART II.

Mahabuba,
I am leaving gaps.
So many empty spaces, so many gaps…
So when I tell you about my life, it does not feel too full, too crowded.
And also just in case you walk in now, mid-sentence, mid dream, you find room to stay… and when I remember you light years from now,
I find that you belonged with the collection of memories and future projections.

I am leaving gaps.
Like that time when I only half laughed with that man,
or like when I only half came…

See, I am leaving all these spaces so when you come around,
I see,
I mean, I feel,
I mean, I know that you were what was missing.

I am only giving half stories. Only half participating.
It's almost too painful to be in this moment, here surrounded by a sea of smiles.
My half laughter is only completed in sighs.
I miss you.
Please come faster, come love.

I'm looking at this piece of art and I know,
I just know that I am missing half of it.
Come quickly and tilt my head, turn my heart, shift my perspective.
Everything is so easy to learn, to understand where there is love.
I need you to show me the part that I am missing.

Come quickly.

Lately, the sun is only half rising.
The sky is falling.
My heart is melting.
Did you forget me?

ON DESIRE. Another Human Condition....

OF DESIRE.:

In my imagination, we are the product of desire.

In my understanding, we are in ourselves a physical manifestation of a fantasy. And what a fantasy, and what a mind! That it should dream with such clarity, such spontaneity, such intensity, such significance! And it feels to me like the world in its entire array, to the best of our observation and limited understanding, it feels like the creator could scarcely contain himself. In fact I bet he didn't! It feels like the fantasy was to put on a display of his dream in any format, in every shape, in every place, on every single plane. The plan? To express to his highest, deepest, widest. To burst forth and place himself in every nook and every cranny, in every visible and every invisible way. What a rush! I can imagine the creator spewing forth colours, ideas, fragrance and spices. I imagine the creator devising dualities- East and West, the present and the absent, the mighty and the lame, the sinner and the saint, every strength unique, and every vice in deed. What a mind that would so seamlessly warp the profound, then weft it with the profane.

We are the highest expression of desire
And this is why we belong here, in this place, in our skin, in our present circumstance.
And this is my connection to the whole universe. This is how I am the bird that flies, the fish in the water, the grass on the earth, the wind and the sky, the ant and the worm in the earth. Because each element, each particle, each person, each moment, each flavour, each of the seen and unseen is a fragment of the divine desire. Because of divine desire, we are all the extension of the brilliant creator and in so doing, the creator and the created are eternally bonded.
This is my answer to why we were created. If you ask me who I am, I will most likely tell you I am desire, and in equal measure, I am desired. This is why I fit, and that’s where I belong. I am a shining sparkle in the vast tapestry of life.

We are the evidence, the absolute proof that dreams come true, that faith produces that which is imagined. That in the process of creating he become the creator and that now the created contain that very same essence. Not like it. But are it! That very essence, and so we too are the creator.

So then, Dear universe, bless our desires.
Teach us to guard jealously our dreams, to fuel them unrelentingly, to wish upon them, hope for their realization, wait upon their arrival in complete trust, as an expecting woman eagerly waits to see her child.
Allow us to embrace our desires fully, and completely, and totally.
Help us enjoy them in the privacy of our mind, and express them confidently and sincerely when in a congregation of people.
Please Lord, even when what we desire seems trivial, or too grand, or too perfect, inspire us with possibility, and love. Remind us constantly that if there is a chance that it could come true, then it probably will.
Allow us to be courageous, to be witty and to have fun in the pursuit of our desires.

Bless our desires Lord. Bless them each and all. And bless us too...

Another Human Condition; Despair.

DESPAIR PART I:
A woman drowning in love.

I drew the line on sand. Drew using colored crayons. Drew bright colors so that I could see from afar the boundary that kept me in and kept you out, and kept this love within reason and within limits of the profound. Kept this love away from the regular and the profane. Drew in crayons in case one day we wanted to erase it. Crayons are not forever.

I drew a fine line in pastels and crayons on the sand that separates the todays and tomorrows. I drew on the sand where water constantly crushes against. The same sand that measures my life’s ebb and flow, my eternal go and return, the constant regular motions I make from sunrise to its sleep, departing as it always does in a prolonged yawn that echoes across the whole horizon in brilliant colors.

I drew the line in crayon knowing fully well that it would not be erased lightly. So I drew deliberately. Carefully. Almost certainly. If it had to be erased, it would have to be smudged, and compromised in an equally certain way. And so I plotted and planned and drew in fine pastels and intense definite crayons.

Now it would seem the line is not fine, and I am not refined and the sand is coarse and shifts too easily, and the water crashing against it is cold. It feels colder now than it ever did because for a moment, I looked to the sky and felt the warmth of the sun and wished with all my might that today the water would be kinder, be warmer, be mightier and that today, the water would sufficiently smudge this imprisonment that I had created (for we never really understand the choices we make. Each is a dark night unto itself). I hoped with as much might as I had the courage to muster that today, the line would be smudged and then maybe I could have a chance to walk across the universe we span in colored crayon pastel defined lines. And the water did. It seemed to cooperate with me. And I was elated and terrified and ready and ready to run.
But then the waters are cruel. While I am halfway across the line that divides us, I find myself drowning in a river of salty waters, tasting the salty turbulence drowning in my tears, and standing upon the same line I drew first. Did it not smudge? Was that not enough?

And now so that I do not die, I must build a glass wall.

OWNERSHIP. TO HAVE. TO OWN.

A story is told of a man who was in love with a woman. He was also a sad man. He would not be with her long, not the way he had initially thought. Not the way she wanted. She was crying because she felt that she could be with him forever. And she wanted to be with him. Now.

The man, gave her a flower. And sadly smiled at her. “Sorrow is for the one who receives a flower, takes it as her own, places it in a vase of water and keeps it on her windowsill. At the beginning, she will look with happiness upon the flower,and for a while,be filled with joy and love for the man who wonders the gardens of the earth seeking such a thing that would reflect her beauty, her perfection, carry her fragrance,her delicate build. She will delight in the parallels,and be glad. Then she will have to watch the flower fade, and lose its color. She will watch it wither and lose its fragrance. She will watch it shed its petals. She will suffer too the grief of loss. she will shudder at the parallels...better then is the one who sits in a field of flowers while they bloom, and sits in the same garden in its autumn and winter. For the fragrance and the color is shed from the flowers and into the ground, absorbed by the soil, mixed in the rain and scattered in the wind. In this way, she will always have the flowers. ”

And so it is with love when we have it, and try to own it. And so it is.

THE HUMAN CONDITION

It is a curious state, this condition. This state, this circumstance, this place where life is experienced in tangible forms like geometric shapes, in separable colors, textures and always context. The human condition

In this condition, we create, as we should, and are pleased by the works of our hands, like money-currency, boundaries-nation states. Then we forget that we are the creator and soon enough we become boxed into those very creations classes and nation-states, and our sense of self and worth become derived from these things. Then sooner than later, this imagination-that we are separate from each other- creates a big pile of mess, classist societies where the rich become richer and the poor even more dejected, where we seek to subjugate and destroy” lesser” civilizations.

In my observation the pre- requisite to be here, in this state a willingness to turn up, to wade through our inertia and temporary memory loss and paint in bold strokes the future we seek to experience. Still, we all too often start by teaching the new and young of us that we are somewhat inherently less, that we are in fact as we seem/look, that love is somehow earned, that they are to blend in more-stand out less, to play softly so we fall gently. We teach them our history and ask that they come to the same conclusions that we did, to color within the lines. We share too unconsciously our abusive relationships with ourselves, with spirit, with nature. We teach them how to cultivate a binding stifling relationship with guilt, and her cousin disappointment. We teach them that love is retractable, deniable. We say I love you then I need you. In the same breath so they think the two are connected and that one follows the other. We teach that spirit, is far removed from our own ordinariness, a grand, benevolent tyrant appeased through a set of prayers and rituals.

And always, there is a great void, a huge void, an insatiable emptiness. Like background static behind the radio presenters’ voice, always lingering is the feeling of displacement, the constant feeling that you are not quite where you are meant to be. The human condition feels very much like wearing a strangers slippers.