You In Mind.

Young Man

I can respect anyone ready to put "ego" aside and admit that, yes I was wrong, I made a mistake. That wouldn't be a black parent, unfortunately. Children apologize for their parent's mistakes. I'm sorry, now I see. 

So, for no personal satisfaction at all, just for the greatest commandment bound with a reward cultured in me through baseless religion, I chose to respect you; maybe all you wanted was me to fear you, but what worth is it to man, I know no better. A  bitter pill to take that has no role in lifting my spirit, healing my deteriorating mental health, my dying confidence, courage to face the pettiest of issues, the smallest form of life, the slowest attacking snail, that if they do,hahaa.

By the time you realize your paps were right, your son already thinks you are wrong, so they say.  I didn't wanna go through life with my son without your blessings. So I was down to the commandment, my white flag high in the clouds of your "ego". I squirted in respect, but I was young and needed not to realize stuff on my own, at least subconsciously. I needed your love, a father figure, for you to know that a son shouldn't feed on his father's fear. That he should walk silently, making noise as they pass through the graveyard with his man at dark, that the worries of the older man should be his rather It is his courage that I count on to keep on talking as we walk through for I understand not how to bear his fears. You called it tough love, but I was young may be too young for the brain, young for a heart, and the heart knows no understanding; it only feels furthermore, it's far much easier to change academic enlightenment than it is to change deep inner feelings.

I was in no position to understand whatever you were preparing me for, what fears you saw lying ahead. You groomed me on fears and insecurities but was I ready?

 I wanna talk to you, in body and soul. I'll be the mind and ill hold you in my heart, that for every devastating thought running through my mind, my heart, where you are, will leap in anger, pain, regret, holding no plastic love for you. ill let you out with tears if the heart can't hold it anymore as an image of you runs through. I'll let tears water you down from my brown eyes that no longer see you're worth open or closed. I wanted to be a normal kid, hang out with my peers, do dangerous things carefully and run for my ass from whooping in the evening. I made toys and cars but rode them alone; I wanted to swim in dirty water pools and later return home looking like a voodoo queen, the beauty of being young.

I loved taking baths very early in life; what normal kid does that, who wanna be well organised by 8yrs? Now I've grown and realized what damage it caused. I see no point in establishing connections I know no basics of. I wanna go hard on games, do crazy speed and puncture any ego I see, for what are social skills to me? 

I want to be worthy in every bodies eye, but on my terms. 

With every hammer stroke on the chisel in my early apprenticeship, I never liked it, then! I gained physical strength and skills, but I lost understanding and feel, now the spirit in me is anchored on logic in place of feelings, feelings that we're never natured to sell out the difference between Alexa and me, I'm only blood and blood vessels in place of aluminium and copper wires different from 'her'.

 I "hated" you then, I think. It's hate from that angle to a young man who wanna express himself, not be cultured; all he wants is to be a corresponding angle to his old man, but freely. I saw no friend in you. I saw a commander in a company of 2 or, should I say, a battalion. Men shouldn't be vulnerable, but boys graduate to men at some point, and when you graduate to the latter shouldn't that time be the best to drop the vulnerability, when you fully understand it? Today I put on my gown proudly, for I no longer hold on to feelings, but a pure understanding of a world of challenges I should find solutions to, not a world of connection or intimacy forced on. Sometimes I wonder whether It was for my best interest or your fears and insecurities in life and social status, or just the way of men. Today I live a different version with my son, a relationship of respect, respect for the processes with an awareness of basic life requirements for manhood; I want him to be tough, but a tough human!

Maybe I'll one day bring the whole humanity to a ted talk-themed simplicity, that when addressing goats, make sure you speaking goat dialect.

Blackmail. 

I look at you, and I see you in me, from the walking, oh, I  came to the city and pride left me, I  tried to fit in. Now I walking in a straight line no more rickets or Oxbowfeet. I see the millisecond snapping at the slightest provocation, the hard work, perfectionism and self-doubt, the selflessness, the boldness in speaking out minds; I see a leader, I'm you, and you are me, I'm your son. 

Am not high in spirit or should I say religious, for I've seen holes, in what you believe in but I acknowledge He exists and wants the best from me, but the questioning of His ways, that's you, totally you.

 My left foot is perfect and my arm, the right one dominate.

 What is a son to a mother?

You know I still got issues with salt; I just can't get it right. I love cooking, and every single moment, I'm adding salt you are in my mind with the line;

You:nikuulize, hio lorry isaenda?

Me: lorry Gani nyar gem.

You: si hio ilikua imesimama juu ya sufuria ikimwaga chumbi. chuuumbi chuuumbi yawa, tho!

Haha, happy times!

The driver of your famous lorry is quite a good friend; he told me to cover it up with pili pili and I do it like I wanna test hell, you should hear my friend complain as they swallow tones, holding litres of water in the other hand.

For your tough love, I seek tenderness in these daughters of Abraham, but they too neither want tender nor hard I don't know what they want, but at least I can tell,to them the biggest mistake a man can make is to be alive. I've loved and cared, but never laughed genuinely nor smiled because my love and relationships are selfish, I want it for me. I do have plans to bring you, one-day left-handed twins. left gene from us hahaa, the twin's gene is quite a task, but soon. 

With you, I share some of my painful experiences, some that I know not about, the ones you shielded me, well it might be blackmail may be exaggerated and I have to believe for I'm your son and what is a son to a mother, maybe more than a conditioned loyal servant through series of cuddling and breastmilk. it's the rule of reason that anything " religious" amygdala-centred should be inscribed in early stages at an age when the logical mind hasn't kicked in, so maybe it was a success. But I've seen the wickedness of your kind, women to their seed. Now giving birth and raising share a firm boundary, for anyone can be a mother, you just have to push it out, dead or alive and if you kill it while inside you, you be one but of a dead! Raising is a whole other thing.

 You taught me to go for what I want, as you sarcastically called it "taste."

I know that tough times are nothing but waves, for what is hope and optimism if not your name. Through it, you managed to raise fine copies of you, just different editions, and in "love", you ensured they tell the same stories under different covers and explanations in hard work and resilience. Your talks to the winds that blow the air of success seem fruitful day by day, and I wanna hire you a white driver, an Italian cook, and a Spanish stylist; I just want the best for you. With heaviness in mind but a heart full of love, I ask myself whether it's genuine or just blackmails.

I depend on firewood on my farm, to bring the heat and energy to carry on, a farm close to the forest of life and I have a unique way, awkward to them, a way of fetching the energy source, I prefer to hear the sound of a tree falling deep in the forest than to be close to it when it falls; what if I take me with it, come crashing down on me! I love you. Maybe  I just don't like being around you.

Middle ground.

I love what we are, the best duo in a doubles game, same opponent, hitting the same ball,  but with different energy and techniques, so with you, no more ink. Just to live a good one and get somebody else to tell a piece so beautiful and on matters beauty, my hand shiver, and my mind freeze of the best words there is to explain it.

Man

I know no culture.

Names give a sense of belonging, maybe identity, I changed mine to an English version, and I identify myself with it; just as I learned the tongue, so is my culture. A culture of men from different holes and hills, caves and houses, black and brown. I never got the chance to walk in the path of my ancestors, but they are mine and I'm their son for they still granted me an understanding of logic and all social constructs that define manhood. We are not bound by blood or ancestors but by the quest to be a "MAN".

I'm slowly becoming a man, am no longer being vulnerable, seek solutions on my own, shade no tears, and seek no happiness, just purpose and logic.

My pants are always above my waist; I see the sunrise, but never find it shining; I take no sugar, keep no female friends, lift weights, earn my own, and stay honest.

I've found males, with whom we all began this sprint from a negative starting point, competing against already heated sprinters in a relay sprint, high on momentum. We were bodies at rest acted upon by an external force, compelling us to live a manly life. An external force that's too hard and might have ended up cracking the souls on impact to set the motion, and now we have to sprint all through with torn muscles, fractured egos, sprained confidence but high in spirit to catch up and finish best. It's a sprint for life on an unfair, unleveled ground but it's a life, you push, or you are out. We've learned to hold each other's hand, shout " stronger" to any dimming spirit, and tap back for every stage finished.

I see a society hidden from true interests but bound by a common goal, to become MEN. We've shared ideas of great men engraved in writings, what they think is the way of men, and they sound convincing now that social belief has turned into reality, a way of life that every man should lead.

We have been forced to grow up still excited with planes in the sky, dust football, and curvy women with long hair in black tight jeans in place of character.

I'm slowly becoming a man at a pace that is not socially acceptable; they have it all figured out about me, more than I even know about myself, but I think of myself as a man and care less.

I'm a learner with no L sign on a busy highway; they are not compiled to act nice at the thought of humanity, to understand and give benefits of doubt; maybe ill put the L sign, so maybe each time they see it, they'll say learners should be at school courts, and service lanes, the privilege ill never get to enjoy. But as a man, ill ignore the hooting and lights signal to have way and lead their lives.

Stranger.

With you, all I seek is an answer. I've realized I don't like unsure energy; clarity is the deal, so help me pick a side.

Was it just learning, was I naive, or was this just love, and that's what love is, a one-time mistake? They say, there are a billion and more of your kind but;

What if I never forget you?

What if all my life,

When I meet someone new,

I can never fall for them.

Because they ain't you.

You punctured a lung, filled my atmosphere, and with every inhale and exhale, I breathe you in, and from every breath am sinking in. I never experienced the "pain" you brought, for I was raised brushing everything off and moving on, but what if I'm damaged beyond trust, damaged beyond commitment, and love, and all I see in my mind is a flying spear aimed at me. I care with the mind; I love with a mind, for it's a textbook affair in the handbook of how to treat women. Deep down; I feel no ish ish or slightest tingling in my heart with my "person." It's just lust maybe and the necessary reaction is an erection, and on that, I've perfected by ensuring good blood flow. I drunk no liquor to postpone you, you left completely.

Should I heal, but from what exactly? If it's a pin, then I am healed, for I never experienced it, but if it's love, then why should I wanna let go of something beautiful I experienced?

I distance myself from affection and attachments. What if everyone leaves in the end, and I'm doomed? For you, I lost much, much of my dignity as a man. I got too close; I became a son, an abomination to my ancestors. They haunt me whenever I close my eyes and see you; whenever your name runs across my mind, they remind me how I failed them, but I failed them, for it was never inscribed in me, how to act around you, and they took away the luxury for me to walk through their path.

 Held in shackles and chains of bitterness and regrets, but I'm learning. I never wanna walk down a similar path again, but will I ever walk down any for that matter?

For clarity, love is a beautiful thing. Just don't get it twisted, and there's nothing as beautiful as seeing someone who has been unlucky in a relationship finally being loved effortlessly by the right person. Everyone has his or her right person but even the brightest of days begin in the dark.

..............