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.