Do You Hear What I Hear?

August 2008. It is some months now since the post-election violence in Kenya. I am pretty ambivalent about my feelings for Kenya. Do I love her? Does she love me? Natukae na undugu is still not happening.

I have loved you, Kenya. I have defended you when others have slighted you. I have been darn proud to come home to you. Now what do I say about you? That I am ashamed of you? That I feel betrayed by you? That you are not to be trusted? I do not like you very much at the moment, really. Love you? Do I? I do not know about that. I really do not know.

August 2008. Beijing. Olympic games. I am watching a race on French TV. Usuain Bolt is in the race. He is the favourite, although hearing the French sports commentator you would be misled into thinking that the French will win, if not come a close second.

The crowd is boisterous, the race is on. Bolt is doing his speed-of-light thing and we, sports commentator and those in front of the screen, are caught up in this phenomenal athletic drama. Of course Bolt wins the race; the French athlete does not even get a mention.

The Beijing crowd has gone wild. Bolt is doing his lightning bolt. Someone gives him the Jamaican flag. In all that uproar and excitement, I hear a distant sound. I strain my ear.

Do you hear what I hear?  Yes. I smile to myself. Yes. I sit up straighter. I am proud, not because of what I am seeing on the screen, but because of what I can hear.

Across the lands, all the way from Beijing, I hear an anthem. Here in Europe in the land of my heart, I feel a tug in my heart. My spirit rises to greet the anthem. My anthem. Our anthem. The anthem of my soul.

Although Kenya is failing me at the moment, I still love her. She is my homeland, my roots, my origins. Kenya is my face, my hands, my accent, my identity. I will not always agree with her, she will sometimes exasperate me. I will sometimes look at her with abject horror: how could you? She will make me laugh. She will make me cry. She will make me proud. But I will always love her and my heart will continue to skip a beat when I will see any news brief, scrolling ticker or news flash with “Kenya” on it.

I will continue to believe in my country, my heritage of splendour. 

***February 28: Anthem Day in Kenya

(Weaving alongside Crystal Simeoni; Wambui Mwangi  Kenya: February 28th 2012)

A Shadow of Turning

Black on black.
Hardened by status,
Forgotten the journey from
The aspiring fields to
The hopeful village market,
Standing together, yet apart,
Woman to woman.

White against white.
White of sheer terror,
Where shall I go?
What about the children?
A refugee in my own home,
A veil shielding me from my future,
Woman to woman.

Red and power.
Of childbirth and hope,
Of violence and loss.
Torn asunder yet still standing,
I will build.
Woman to woman.

This flickering flame, will it hold?
I will rebuild,
Woman to woman,
On this green stead.

(Weaving alongside M. Mohammedali Red, P. Muthoni The Politics of Demolition, W. Mwangi When Women Meet)