Aisha Abdulaziz

urbanmirrorkenya — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 15:30:27 +0000

Dignified violation- The letter
Sometimes I sit and wonder when it all began. I wonder whether things would have been different if it were someone else who found her body. In my dreams, I feel the grass making my back itchy and my skin is clammy. I feel a pressure on my bladder, and my chest heaves painfully with each breath I do not take. I am dead, looking out at the world from eyes that do not move in their sockets. I wake up from this dream, every day in the same way. I hope to find something, a speck of hope that this is just a dream. It will be all right.
When I die and you find my body, perhaps I will be riddled with bullets…or maybe I will be hacked to pieces…Show me to my mother. So that she does not sit at our doorstep, anxiously waiting for my brothers to return from their daily trips to the hospitals.
I imagine that everyday they will come home, with the stench of hospital casualty wards clinging to their sweat stained shirts. I wonder if the sweat will draw the map of Kenya under their armpits. Show me to my mother when you find me.
But I beg of you, if you find me on the side of the road, with my tattered blood stained underwear wrapped around my neck and my skirt hitched under my buttocks and my legs sprawled as they left me, please pull my skirt down and remove the underwear from my neck. Close my mouth as best as you can and let not my mother see the twist of my mouth in anguish and pain, when you take me to her. Cover the welts on my neck with a scarf and my hair; make sure my mother does not see my forehead devoid of the braids pulled out in their climax.
The stench of disease and gunshot wounds, mixed with fear as men wet their pants pleading for the lives of their women. They had inched closer. Close enough to know that I was there, just not to find me. The blood in the river heralded the coming of my last day.
I know that they are coming, and I am ready. I have seen the hunger in their eyes, when they searched for me. I have seen their faces and what they have done. Presiding over women like goods, deciding who will have the honour and who will close the ceremony. It has been a while since I laughed from the pits of my stomach. Memories of my childhood have gone up in smoke. Friends and neighbours disappeared under the shadows cast by the low hanging roofs, lost in the night with the dreams from my childhood.
They will grab me by my hair and drag me on the ground… Gravel will embed itself in my cheeks and cigarette burns will form a trail up my arms and settle on my chest.
Just do not take me to my mother until I am the woman- child she bore again.

Instances and eras
How long is an era?
They say it’s a moment
That it’s just the end of the beginning
It’s a moment
The moment that you miss death
The blink of an eye
I’ve had moments
Of passing a stranger in the street
And smelling their familiar scent
Hearing their familiar footfalls
Sometimes even of being in love
With swaggers and laughter
Just as
With bloodshot eyes and nicotine stained teeth
I have lived through an era of shiny new-coin love
In an instant
If it were that simple
Only if it were
There have been those times
That I have lived through tattered new-found faded
Dusty crusty rusty brown
Formerly starched crisp white clothes
Been like the planets revolving around the sun
Never colliding
Never sensing
Never feeling
Other presence
Just being
Then who knows what happens in eclipses?
Maybe the planets caress each other
Steal a glance
Steal a moment
Their lips brush
And their fingers touch
Their hairs bristle
Their breath catches
They feel they want to pee
And so do we
In the shadow of eclipse
Then the new smell becomes old
The skin feels just like your own
That era ends as well
The era of warm comfort
Familiarity
Ends in an instant
The ear of the long dead

Miriam Rubino de Rinck (MINA) – questionnaire about Public Art in Nairobi

urbanmirrorkenya — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 13:21:09 +0000

Miriam is one of the artist who had the chance to perform at the Urban Mirror Show the 25 July 2009. Attached the questionnaire that she made during the show to understand the perception of people about the meaning of public art in Nairobi.

Popular culture is a fundamental element in the life of a city. But in many places, popular culture is not freely expressed. This can be a result of either the low demand for popular cultural institutions, or the insufficient supply of these institutions. Popular cultural institutions can include public spaces like parks, as well as public art, like murals and sculptures. It can also include places where artists work, such as galleries and workshops. Please take a moment to fill out this questionnaire so that we can learn more about the situation of popular cultural institutions in Nairobi.
Thanks – Nairobotics Inc.

Age: Gender: What part of the city you live in?

1.Popular culture is (check those that apply):

A way of expressing emotions A way of expressing ideas Essential for economic development

2.Which of these statements best represent your opinions (circle one)

The Art Scene in Nairobi is: limited / diverse boring /exciting dull / vibrant

3.What is the situation of popular culture in the city (circle those that apply)

Persecuted Repressed Complacent Satisfying Flourishing

4.What factors hold back popular culture in Nairobi (circle those that apply)

Lack of Security Lack of Original Ideas Financial constraints None, popular culture is not held back

5.Would you assist to/participate in more art events in the city if (circle those that apply)

Security is improved Events are free Events occur closer to my area/neighbourhood

Event are held in my language None, I’m satisfied with my level of participation

6. Who is responsible for the maintaining the popular culture institutions in Nairobi (circle those that apply)

The Government Me Other People No one Everyone

7. Rate the current supply and demand for popular art and culture institutions
(0 = too low 1 = just right 2 = too high):

Public spaces (parks) Supply Demand

Murals Supply Demand

Public sculpture Supply Demand

Art galleries Supply Demand

Theatres Supply Demand

Graffiti Supply Demand

8. Are there any spaces where you can freely express yourself in this city?

YES NO

9. If you could write a graffiti to express your ideas on any wall in Nairobi

a)Where the graffiti would be located?

b)What would you write?

Nuru Bahati

urbanmirrorkenya — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 08:58:14 +0000

Sincerer as past
Faithful as present
Hopeful as future
Focused compass
On a stormy ocean
The devil is envious
of you
God is proud
of you!
Honour time
And respect
will embrace you
True love give gives room
for chance….

Jefro

urbanmirrorkenya — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 08:46:01 +0000

Like Martin Luther King
I had a dream in a pyjiama
Jefro Bantu
from the land of Barack Obama
a child of god
and Africa my 2nd mama
mental workout in the gym
tho I carried on being dumber
8-4-4 zero is the system
some food for thought
tho I carried on in the kitchen
frying parables I word plays
and make you listen
quit looking in the tone
the son of man
Joshua has rised

Hazeline A Lego

urbanmirrorkenya — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 14:57:13 +0000

Wedding Day Synopsis

Outside St Stephen Cathedral a large crowd is gathered waiting for the bride and bridegroom to arrive. There are people of different calibre. Some are busy chatting and some are impatient. Inside the church the priest is with the bride and bridegroom on the alter. The priest could be hard announcing if there is any false impendment why the two should not be joined together in holy matrimony, the church should declare it.
The reception was going to be held at Safari park hotel. Cars were parked outside the hotel and the bride and the bridegroom, the flower girls and maids entered first. They were shown where to sit by the guest relation officer. Eventually everybody was inside the hotel. Various entertainments were done, and the parents of both the bride and the bridegroom gave their speech.
The bride and the bridegroom cut the cake, they fed each other and gave their parents a gift cake. The maids were walking around giving people cake.
After a few minutes people were serving themselves. They were ushered in front by the waiters. All kinds of dishes were prepared. After people had had their meals, they presented their presents to the bride and the bridegroom. Those who were taking their gifts were required to go in front where the bride and the bridegroom were. They were greeted by the bride and the bridegroom as they handed their gifts.
Well after presenting their gifts, everybody had to go back to their various destinations. But the worst happened outside the hotel as people were leaving. From nowhere somebody shot a gun straight aiming at the bridegroom and the bride was kidnapped. The kidnappers car left the spot immediately as the security man struggles to help the bridegroom.

Valentine Kamau

urbanmirrorkenya — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 14:55:42 +0000

The Dictator

They are vindicated, then vilified.

Imagine how lonely the cherry on top must feel, high above all the cream and the toppings.

How lonesome it must be!

It’s reaching the mountain top with no warmth to back in

Climbing the corporate ladder and losing commonplace simplicities

Notorious luminary

Infamous…

Intolerable

Imagine how their beloved spouses must feel! to get into bed with the most hated yet feared.

Mortified.

A QUICK-OVER-THE-COUNTER remedy will suffice

Shopping trips to Paris, Milan, Big Ben…how else to express remorse for lives lost?

Oh, ..let’s see…perhaps mourn in a black little number and cover

up those bulging eye bags with designer glasses

How it must suck to be rich!

He won’t let go without a fight,

He is not bemused, nor amused by the weight of playing master yet, he is in too deep to accept defeat.

Calling all defenders of destitute halls and walls of infinite justice.

Claudia Muende & Bogoda Theatre Africa

urbanmirrorkenya — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 14:54:26 +0000

Life ended before it Started

A life was ended yesterday
Before it was to have started today
Massacre, World War 4, machinery versus nature
Machinery winning, it’s torture

If trees were people. too many died in their 20s.
If they could talk, they could say it’s not fair.
If only Mother Nature was a real person
If the frogs would just stop cursing.

If trees could have eyes, they would see invaders
If they could walk, they could evade the dangers
If only Mother Nature had a phone number
Then she could wake everyone from their mental slumber.

This makes me mad, everyone is bitter
Negligent brain’s and minds titter
If I was soil I’d give them a piece of my mind
And for wildlife salvation, I would find

But trees are silent, although living
No walking, no tongues, that won’t be arriving.
And Mother Nature is just someone’s imagination.

If trees were people. too many died in their 20s.
If they could talk, they could say it’s not fair.
If only Mother Nature was a real person
If the frogs would just stop cursing! …..

Evans Orieko

urbanmirrorkenya — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 14:52:03 +0000

It Has Began

The day has began, brightness
Opens from the clouds of night
Like a flower ready to blossom
Letting the sweet coloured scent

I see the light outside
Sweeping the morning shy dew
A feeling of joy comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist

A feeling of happiness and joy
Like of a kitten born to earth
And resembles hope only
As the dawn resembles day

I write to you some poems
Simply and heartfelt I do
To sooth the restless feeling
Banish the thoughts of day and night
New day has began

Not from the grand old master
Not from the birds sublime
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of time

For, like strains of martial music
their mighty thoughts suggest

Life’s endless toil and endeavor
but today you have your rest
I write that I may touch your feelings
Feelings, yes feeling,

As showers from the clouds
Or tears from the eyelids start
I through long days of waiting,
Singing with you here I start
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of our choice
And lend to the rhyme of poet
The beauty of my voice

And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fill your heart, like the dove
And as silently steal away,
Slowly by slowly, till it fades away

Poets and Writers from Nairobi

urbanmirrorkenya — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 14:58:16 +0000

Writers and poets from Nairobi thinking and writing about the urban scene of Nairobi, this is Urban Mirror a virus called public art, urban art or just street art!!!!!!!!!!!! www.urbanmirror.org