A drink from the thrill that kills.

She rides, enjoying the down pour of the rain.

For me , riding in the rain and this wet weather is amazing. I do not really know why. Maybe its the rush of water and mad splashing on my body, or the smoothness of the bike wheels as they give themselves away with a floating feel on the wet tarmac. Or maybe its the extra alertness which kicks in since theres more danger when its dark or when visibility is low. But its a good feeling riding in the rain. Well I try not to unless I have to since people who care about me worry about it, and I agree.

But today was crazy in a new kind of way. I was riding my bike from a friends , six to seven , and yes, it was rainy.  Riding in the dark is another totally different experience, haha but thats a story for another day.

So now I had combined the two demons that dare any cyclist out there. But I had to get home. So my adrenaline kicks in and my heart gives in to the ride. I’m riding downhill, all heavy gears engaged, top speed, and out of nowhere, a woman steps into the road. Two steps maybe? One? haha whose counting.

I rapidly react by swinging my bike and body sideways. At that moment I realize the baby in her arms, wrapped up nicely in white. I notice sound of the woman gasp for air in shock as she freezes to a stop. I had really not expected her. I wouldn’t have braked in time even if I’d have seen her. I pass safely , the only contact we create is that of a slight wave of cold chilly wind ,like the thin line between life and death.

I turn , a few meters ahead now, still at a high speed, checking if she is alright with my peripheral vision. She is fine, she is not rolling on the damn tarmac and neither am I. I wonder to myself, ‘had she not seen me? or did she assume I was not moving as fast as a car would?’ I conclude that maybe she had not checked both ways and ride on.

Anyway, this would have been a totally different story, assuming I could have been here or able to write and share it. Maybe I would have died from such a collision, or gotten badly injured, to live on and blame myself for the rest of my life for God knows what such an event would have delivered. Funny it is to me how my reaction came up. without thought I just moved. Like a moment of inspiration to a creative, or the awareness of a new equation to a mathematician. Could it be as a result of me riding a lot, or could it be that something beyond my mare imagination intervened. Haha , who am I to say anyway.

All that I am grateful for right now, is that I am here, I am glad I can write this and share it to the world.  Coz thats usually tough sometimes.  That woman, her baby and I live to tell a story, and hopefully learn from it.

Speaking of learning, just so you know, when you ride in the rain, you should save up for bike components sooner, also, you should be ready to deal with some bad ass laundry later. But thats not happening again right? riiiight?


We are on a journey. One of self discovery. We’ve come so far along the path of many hindrances, made it safely so far. Like water flowing endlessly to a destination someplace. All our lives since childhood times, we’ve been part of a civilization. Its the 21st Century, and the mum is the Government or the system if you like. An age of technology, Industrialization, innovation and art. It is also an age of lies, Very many of them. A time of vices and a time where the modern man is stretched in every way to forget his natural formdsc07914

We trust the path and we cannot walk it alone, we need help. I’ve had help. With conditions, sometimes clear and most times sugar coated. I’ve been fed the unfair food, lived an unfair life and been poisoned by the words of those who held my hand. Consciously and unconsciously I now see truth with every dawn. I need to rebuild the bridge to my true natural path, and I need to know it, and it is beyond any system man can build for me to fit in.

Civilizations in history rose from the care of nature, the length and depth of rivers and the ability to create art, not much has changed between now and then, only that we behave like the earth needs us, but we are the ones that perish without it. Our plastic civilization is clogging our paths of self awareness through the destruction of everything that is natural.And since I trust my path, which leads me to you and to someone else ahead, I write this to make my journey pure, and to awake you who is still asleep in the warm cuddles of your deceiver. Thanks.

A breaking heart.

  • Sometimes I feel like people look and see something  in me.  Something  I do not see,  something  that makes them stare,  makes their world stop. Pause in anxiety  and curiosity,  like we are in totally  different  dimensions. It’s like the souls in them wait for the word go to come and get mine in the speed of light, like a damn race,  hoping I do not get saved any moment now.                                                                   But beneath my skin,  and bones and tunnels in flowing blood  and nerves transmiting  high voltage electrical impulses,  something  else feels unstable, makes me look worried. Maybe that’s what they see so easily,  even as I do everything  I can from the inside not to betray my feelings.

But I think I am wining,  soon I will walk away,  and all they will have is a memory, and next time my heart breaks,  they will be a different  cast,  she will be a different  main character, maybe she will know how to handle a lost soul,  maybe…




The skin’s not black!


Hi humans, aaaam so I would like to yell something, about the African skin. Obviously for unknown reasons or reasons we are yet really ready to understand, observation is that some of us of the “black”skin are not comfortable and go to black holes and beyond to try and get rid of who they are skin wise.

So this might help and so I will write, see, in art, we do not exactly recognize black as an actual color,  we know it as a conglomerate of colors. As every color you can think of apart from black itself sediment ed together, so people probably name that collection of shades black to give it an identity.

All the same, here’s my point,if you carefully look at your skin, you should see those shades, try it if you want, its an amazing experiment. The skin we identify with as black you will…

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Ever thought of having a helmet on in any situation where you have to ride a bike or as you should know, a camel? Earlier today, some parents agreed to give their kids a camel ride opportunity, normally, this rides are fun. Actually, they make up a mild part of my child hood. But the lesson learnt today did not come easy.


Gone just a few metres and camel decided to either join an imaginary race or easily kidnap the children. At a high speed the camel bounced away, testing the childrens resilliance to the limit. Imagine their mixed reactions from up there. The joy of a thrilling ride cut through by the strong feeling of their terrified souls. Looking down at sympathisers with helpless natures.The creature had rebelled against its human masters and caught them by surprise.

Installing a humped road sign in a camel enclosure.

So now the children would begin to drop, one by one. Slamming the ground with thuds and the on lookers would face away with every disturbing fall. Things happen so fast, we have never seen anything like this. They spoke as a crowd formed within seconds. The owner of the camel strived to keep up and calm the angry beast, once a slave, to no avail.


The camel, its master and one child that held on disappeared into the horrizon which would lead to a busy tarmack road. Two of the kids had now fallen off. And an icy chill slithers down my spine when I try to imagine if the last child got off safely, hoping that the others would be alright. I do not know of what would make a camel that creepy, but now you know, anything is possible.

Although I have a feeling someone had pissed off the poor creature real bad.

Chang’aa?? CURRICULUM!!


Thirst, anger, bitterness, rejection…

so now alcohol has been poured and poured and poured, Nice. But are we really fighting the cause to the problem? What will happen after the nation diverts its attention to the cost of living and the realization that  the dollar still stands at sh100? or probably something else all in all. I think that the reason alcohol is yet to be tamed is because it is one of the easiest career to pick up after “school”and also the easiest one for one to drown their sorrows in, the vehicle being the likes of unemployment and rejection.

I rarely watch the news, I am more of a radio freak, but when I did watch, I saw alcoholics with hope burning down inside their blood shot eyes, and hidden pain in the burnt up lips and hearts within. They spoke of dreams that they once had and still hold on to. Some wanted to go back to work if only they could, others had dreams of going into studio, and others wanted back that sense of direction they lost after standard 8.
It will be amazing if we give them the chance, which we have, I guess. Lets also see the need to make sure that their history is not repeated by ourselves and our children…

HA! anyway here’s my always repetitive idea, “lets pour our poor curriculum, its the ugliest chang’aa, the deadliest second generation alcohol. Lets brew it again with quality,” and you will have no dreams to shutter with fobe again.



Child Mine.

Child Mine.

Every time I am out for a walk or travel somewhere, I choose observation as my companion. Observations are awesome, it’s a learning thing. Of late I have had a tough brain storm time trying o figure out why and how some things remain at the status quo for such a long time. See infrastructure, politics but closely streets.

Streets if you observe are not only a hub for noise, business, transport, interaction and congestion. They are also “home” for some of our citizens.(street children). They have been there, generation after another. This for me being one of the most sad observations I make and whose “status” is a cancer.

Kids begging in the streets are usually victims of many different circumstances. Lanes in towns being guilty for our shoes destruction are the beds to the neglected in society. They gain hardship skills by hiking and browsing the Dandora dump sites, never Subukia shrines for the reach of holy water, to drink away their misery…

Never embraced with love because they are walking time bombs in tattered clothes and undetonated spirits. Soon they will be paved away by killer cops who make way to our own who own real parent hood warmth. Ours are not like the rest. So we will support them with everything to our name. They indeed will be “successful”, owning companies at ages nineteen. We will teach them how to keep the best for themselves. They will inherit from us the elements of the earth we grabbed.

But then, Yin and Yang, Karma. rivalry between the brothers of he street, for some were born there, but others own there.  Born and raised in the streets st, you might not become an economic giant, but you will own  bitterness, strength, creativity, courage etc. Their lawful pardon being collection of split brain cells for body bags and hope they will live to not send away any more street comrades. Then like nature would, the streets will protect the  slums.

They will restore balance harshly, in a way we do not now. By then there  will be no turning back. A true revelation, that knives will be curved into our livers, our empires destroyed, giving back the rough way. Giving back the seeds of balance, ones that we  grow  not now,on the concrete streets.


Just like every eye has its own unique beautiful spark, so does every object have a beautiful reflection when rain drops merge to embrace the ground. When rain showered on me I ran to take cover under a buildings canopy awaiting a vehicle home. None cared to stop, they were all occupied by cold passengers impatintly hoping to get home early than nine pm.

Cyclists too competed alongside the giant rough driven matatus, and as the rain drops fell on the tarmack, a manipulative mirror was created, and I could see all the activity on the palm of the road itself. Every image splashed away by the wheels or feet coming next. The speed thrilled and pedestrians had to be very keen trying to make it to the other side of a vangeful road.

But sitll, ironically, the water seemed to heal the road of all its minion like duty, and now my patience was blown away by the chilly wind, I took the walk, the raindrops were cold but my blood was warm enough, the feeling was good, I felt free, and before I knew it, I was at the cross roads, and there I sold my soul to a small white nissan matatu, and it took me home, safe and sound.

Silvester M.


Heeey Blogie, long time no see, tell you what, you remind me of friends, those friends on my phone book, so close but then so far away, like planets of the universe with gravity and asteroids keeping them apart.

You remind me of my other loner friends;canvas, yarn, willow, pen, pencils, paper, paint…and not forgetting my closer one, ;lazyness. Whenever  I make a brush stroke, I get posessed, I will not stop, I always have a good time, well not until laziness brings along his other toxic friends, sleep, more sleep and much more sleep, childhood friends are always the ones you cannot easily send away but embrace.

So now my unfinished work stares back at me, just like the friends on my phone book page. When I feel broken enough, I will always come back to have a good time with art, it has a way of never giving up, understanding and amazing patience, like most parents, so thanks non living friends, thanks blog, till next time, I’ll be here having a creative rest.


A bit lately posted but May the month with the cold weather and the boxing sports taking over in a very wierd way, I got a chance to join my pals for the HAART exhibition on May first. It was a very informative event, warm, secure and well organized. Live music performance, spoken word artists, poets, fashion designers and of course all the visual arts in that place made me feel like I belonged. The event was held at Sarakasi dome, I would like to believe that the buildings design is one of my best in Nairobi, especially uniquelly. A lot of talents and strength would be acknowledged if we utilised such resources in a good way. I met new people, saw amazing work, learnt a lot and I got to exhibit my art among the other artists works.

Child Mine.

Child Mine.

Awareness Against Human Trafficking (HAART) is a non-governmental organisation dedicated to fighting human trafficking.I am greatful to HAART for the , they topportunity thy gave artists in joining their cause. HAART taught me about modern slavery, an evil they are fighting against, it is human trafficking. It affects both children and adults, most common cases are ones I am sure people always talk about with fear,anxiety worry,bitterness or pain, jobs in foreign countries that always end roughly and badly,among other incidences like kidnappings,forced labour,domestic servitude,sexual exploitation,removal of organs…But then you see, much as we ignore the painful lessons that others have been through, we also ignore that it is the small things that matter. The society has shown and is doing this unknowingly or rather intentionally. A good example of what I am talking about is internal human trafficking. Children from up country are working at our urban houses yet they are underaged. Their rights are violated and even the ones that get the rare opportunity to school for example are never taught that they deserve better, neither are they warned of the fears of a modern world

It is obviously wrong to have the children who we say are the future, working as our modern slaves, their escape ends up being more forms of human trafficking including the external kind. And this things happen right under our eyes because they seem small, but it is not until we have a vision 2030 with streets “littered” with begging children,muggers*, forever lost familiy members, burried loved ones and a broken country, all lost to this evil, that we will realize that we have been our own worst enemies. Fight this evil, self slavery/colonisation of our minds, because crying about scars will do no cure, unless we stop the whips and protect tomorrow.

there was no going hungry,'smiles'.

there was no going hungry ‘smiles.’

I may  not have covered the trafficking issue as largely as it should be, but I am one informed person, if you happen to read this, get more information because it is power, and right. The following sites will lead you to HAART,they support vctims of human trafficking, feel free to contact them, they are hope to us, lets join the war.





+254 (0)738 506 264



The exhibition continues around Nairobi…

GoDownArtCentre, 11-16th May

British Institute in East Africa, 18-23rd May

Kobo Trust, 25-30th May.