A Letter to My Brothers

Dear brothers,

When you read this letter, I am already in Addis Ababa. Do not worry about me. I am fine and settling down well. I am in a new, focused country with an energetic leader who dares even the Pharaohs over the Nile waters. I am already in the arms of my empathetic lover, Edel, and her beautiful daughter, Beli, eager and ready to start a new life. I am in the country of Menelik II, the most outstanding African emperor who defeated the feared dictator and fascist Mussolini and his Italian armies on our sacred African soil at Adowa. I am in the nation of Gabrielle Selassie, the long-distance track legend. I am in the land of Ras Tafari MacKinnon, the prince and founder of the Ras Tafari religion. Being here reminds me of reggae music; that line, "the system does not cater for me." That is why I have left you, my dear brothers. That is why I have left my beloved daughter Emily back home. I cannot say that about her mother. She deserves my abandonment. It is good I have left her. Otherwise, living with her another second would have killed me.
Brother Manga, it is only you who can understand me. You have lived with these young women of this age. You have seen how torturous it is. You have experienced it all, from them throwing the little hard-earned money you give at your face to the enormous insults projected at you. How does a man bear that? How does a grown-ass man watch and tolerate his ego brought down among neighbours and strangers? I now understand why Kevin beat sister Clare that much. I now know why he had this colossal bat stored under the bed for his wife. People say words don't break bones. But they forget that they break hearts and spirits. You went through this torture Manga and came out alive. I respect you for that. Perhaps, I should also thank the weed you took to kill the stresses women give. I am sorry that Velma turned you, our innocent brother, into a drug abuser.
I know our father is blaming me for my bold move. He thinks of nothing other than his sons getting married and maintaining those relationships. He believes that since he has handled our stubborn mother over the last forty years, we should also have the calmness and tolerance to stay with our mean wives. He told me I should not abandon Tesa because finding a good woman is hard. He stressed that there is no good woman and advised that I should not leave Tesa because it would lead to having multiple women in my life. I am sorry to disappoint him. I have to take my chances and seek the best life possible. The good thing about father is that he is light-hearted. He will soon accept what I have done.
Mother never liked Tesa. However, she is unpredictable. It is hard to say whether she will be happy or sad about my move. I wonder if she will keep staying with Tesa. I am sure she will not be pleased with me being far away from her. She has never liked it when we move out. Do you recall how she quickly brought Manga home when he moved to Migosi? She never likes it when we go for those interviews that promise to take us to the big cities far away from her. I wonder if she knows we are too old to live around her. She may like the idea of me leaving Tesa but not leaving the family. She has got us deeply rooted in her.
Mother hates Tesa's overambition. She hates her desire for the high life, yet she is unwilling to work for it. Recently, she told Dreda that Tesa's frustrations had reversed my development. I am becoming more childish and sluggish. The vibrancy of my youth has ebbed away. I have become like Njoroge, who Ngugi wa Thiong'o describes as an "old young man." Mother knows it. She understands it. She knows how a wife can turn a husband's heaven into hell. Probably, she did the same to our father. You can see how quiet of a man he is. Her daughters do the same to their husbands too. Now, Tesa was there, frustrating me.
Remember, I told you we could not judge Davy for marrying another wife. You can recall how sister Celine used to thrash him. At one time, Celine told us how she climbed on his back and stabbed him there severally with a scissor. Do not forget how she vandalized his car and beat him black and blue one morning. The poor guy collected himself amidst all that shame and reported the incident to the police. I can imagine the embarrassment and derailment he faced from your incompetent officers. Who knows what more action-drama our brother-in-law faces under Celine's domination?
Have you ever wondered how hard he finds discussing such matters with us? What avenues of help have men who suffer physical and mental abuse in marriages got? Society expects us to stay strong and suffer quietly. The laws and traditions are against us. Probably, that is the reason most men die first in marriages.

People often wonder why a good Christian like Mistari turned bad after marrying Akothe. Mother usually praised his powerful prayers. Mistari no longer attends church. All he does is smoke bhang and drink. That is what happens to a man who marries a trophy wife. Her work is only to squander and bankrupt you when you work hard. Mistari gave Akothe the comfortable life that few people in your country live. He rented a posh house in the high-end side of Murang'a town and took his children to the best academies. He even started a bakery with his brothers and cousins. Unfortunately, Akothe frustrated and chased his brothers away, claiming they were dirty. The bakery business stopped as she kept spending Mistari's dime purchasing designer clothes and expensive shoes. When Dreda and I visited her place, she never wanted us there. She had the nerve to tell us that since she had sent Mistari's brothers away, we, too, should leave. Now that poor Mistari is broke, Akothe calls our mother and father, crying as she narrates Mistari's irresponsibility. What a devil!
We do not know what made Ronny run away. People say he met a sugar mommy and decided to live with her in Mombasa. All they see is sister Sarah and her little daughter. Nobody bothers to ask what motivated Ronny to take such an unexpected move. I have never judged Ronny. I will not judge him today. I will wait until I hear his side of the story.
These quick and wrongful condemnations of men are leading to the rising rates of suicide among married men in your country. This unjustified expectation that we should absorb an immense amount of pressure from women without a word or a sigh is driving us to the gutters. I won't fall for it. That's why I left you all to start a new life.
You all know that Tesa has been a pain in my ass. I have told and hinted at that to you on several occasions. You must have noticed how I have withdrawn from you lately. That's because she never likes it when I talk to you. She claims that sitting with you people makes me less ambitious and lose focus. Some nights, I have to go without supper as punishment for spending time with my brothers. I can't take this anymore. Why does she have to do this to me, yet I let her roam around and spend time with those useless women who only sit around and say vile things about other people? Since she started spending time with them, she has turned into a negative, insatiable hyena. She wants more and more.
I have never come across anybody so insecure as her. I can neither talk to nor have any woman as a friend. Her insecurities made me delete my social media account. She snoops around my phone like a dog, searching for a bone. I was even surprised that she knew my phone's password. That makes her feel like the most intelligent person in the world. She read my messages and replied to them disgracefully. Then she claims that I shame her. She does not know the love and respect I had for her.
Brothers, you know I am always indoors nearly twenty-four hours a day. I only leave to dump our daughter's poop and pee in the lavatory or to have a small chat with you. When do I get to cheat? Tesa had imprisoned me.
Do you know that she stopped Derrick from visiting me? My bosom friend from childhood. We went to the same high school and college and did the same course. She claims Derrick corrupts me. Tesa made me live a secluded life. She neither loves you nor my friends. I could not take it anymore. According to her, nobody is right for me. I fear she might lock me up and kill me someday.
She gives me no privacy. Indeed, everyone deserves some bit of privacy; partners included. When you look for dirt, you will always find it. She read messages from my friend, Pats and became wild. She assaulted me. I had to defend myself. In this age, who understands a man who protects himself from a feline attack? People only see the bruises I gave her. They forget about my finger that she almost ripped apart.
Do you recall when I was playing wrestling with her, and I almost choked her to death accidentally? The nurses declared I was guilty of her condition and that I did choke her intentionally. They pressured her to press charges against me. She did not. But that has been her leeway to blackmail me. I promised not to touch her again. However, my retrieval made her more dominant as she pressed me into her small corner.
Last week, I had to rise again. I had to face my fears and undress this timidity that covered me. When Tesa lashed at me like a hungry lioness, I had to give her a beating that she would never forget. I am not proud of what I did. I wouldn't say I like fights, and this is not the life I wanted.
When I was young, I believed those men who beat their wives were devils in men's form until I found myself doing the same. Tesa provoked me. She attacked me ferociously. It was my life and health at stake. I had to respond. That's why I keep saying, "if you don't know the story, do not judge the book." I left since I didn't want to continue living that violent life. I hope you all understand.
Sincerely,
Moremore.

Bye Bye, Comrade Mugabe

It is another dark day for the African continent. Another fallen hero. The last hero that we will ever see for years to come. The demise of President Mugabe reminds me of the painful losses we have suffered in the past. The death of President Ghaddafi. The end of President Sankara. The death of Patrice Lumumba. The demise of Kwame Nkurumah. True Pan-Africanists. True fighters for and liberators of their people. True defenders of the African continent. Visionaries. Legends. They were brought down by Western greed and capitalism. Tears roll down my eyes.
 
 We have seen leaders come and go. Nobody has been brave enough to solve the land question in Africa as Mugabe did. It is disheartening that the African remains colonized today in his own country. Look at South Africa. Look at Kenya. The descendants of colonialists are the significant owners of lands in these countries. Yet, praises of Mandela and Jomo Kenyatta are sung everywhere- leaders who lacked the steel needed to free the African man from western domination.
 
 Observing BBC, I am almost inclined to smash my TV to pieces. The level of name-bashing and propaganda against Mugabe is unimaginable. What moral authority does a colonialist have to speak about an African liberator? Our African liberator. They raped our lands and left them in a dilapidated state; they allocated our resources to their descendants, whom they bullied us into allowing to live freely in our countries. Yet they frustrate our brothers who live in their countries, honest, hardworking, and hopeful people who move to their countries to soil their hands and toil their lands to give them greatness. Yet, no dime of appreciation.
 
 The white race is the pure race; that is what they believe. They brand those who attempt to challenge this fallacy as despots, tyrants, autocrats, and much more. It is no surprise. That's the essence of capitalism-greed. It was expressed in the early days of Mugabes, Lumumbas, Machels, and Nyereres as colonialism and today as imperialism and neocolonialism. The savagery of white capitalism lies in its wild belief in survival of the fittest; the most inhumane notion or idea ever developed by man. That is why, for centuries, they have labelled Africans backward, weak, and unintelligent- just because we are humans. Just because our Mugabe, Ghaddafi, Kwame, Sankara, and Lumumba were human. They were leaders who stood with the African people after centuries of slavery and colonialism. We know them as heroes. We respect them. Our belief in our humanity and strength as African people cannot fade away, even if we are a few.
 
 They talk about economics. About the performance of Zimbabwe's economy under Mugabe. Is it Mugabe that placed economic sanctions on his country? Was it not bullies that tied down the growth of a vibrant nation under an energetic and focused Pan-African leader? After shamefully and illegally amassing wealth by exploiting our generous and kindhearted forefathers, they use it today to bully us through sanctions. They use it to instigate divisions and civil strife throughout the African continent. Who profits from the wars in Congo? Who profits from the violence in the oil-rich Niger Delta? Who profits from the wars in the greater Sudan? Who benefits from the "xenophobic" attacks in South Africa?


  No. You will not soil Mugabe's impeccable reputation. What moral standards do colonialists, imperialists, and economic terrorists have to discuss our Mugabe? Mugabe is impeccable. There is no man alive that does not sin. Whatever Mugabe's weaknesses were, he did much better and greater things for the African continent than any other leader today.
 
 I focus on the liberation of Zimbabwe from the shackles of our white colonial masters. Zimbabwe is the only African nation that is closer to ever-elusive freedom. I pray Mnangagwa remembers that. I chose to focus on the provision of Zimbabwe's land to the many landless Zimbabweans. I prefer to focus on the fight against neocolonialism and imperialism still gripping the African continent today. I focus on principles and ideals that show the African people can stand against white colonial bullies even in the face of sanctions and poverty. I choose to be proud to have lived in the time of one of the very few African legends.
 
 Rest in peace, comrade Mugabe.

My Beloved

It’s been a while, But I haven’t missed her.

My flower, though miles away, 
Is every step I take, 
With me always, deep in my heart,

mind, and soul's part.

Peace I feel at, When I hear her voice sweet,

telling she misses meat, my heart skips a beat,

My nerves halt, For her alone.

Our lone time, I hold and cuddle her,

Like a pillow tight, I feel her warm curves,

Her pink thighs, real soft and tender, 
Her body, a site of wonder

Her saliva, tastes like butter. .

I’m afraid of dark, she changes that,

When I’m with Pat, I can step out,

she is my man, she is my sun,

She lights my world, she provides life.

It’s dark outside, stars up the sky,

My mind, comes my lover’s eyes,

Dark and white, like night and street light,

I know I shall die, observing my lover’s eyes.