A new day has come,we have been waiting for so long and we give thanks to the Almighty for another day above the the ground.
It’s time to tour my beautiful City, Mombasa and it’s environs.
It’s evident that we are facing harsh economic times and cost of living has risen.
Everyone is busy trying out to put food on the table— Everyday you see them on the street not even making ends meet.
What kind of Life? — strife.
What kind of strife? — knife strife.
We meet children on streets, begging for money,’if you have any;but when you roll down the window, Boom! They take everything with the knife you didn’t see,not just your money— your keys & wrist watch but let’s not point fingers because this sick world ain’t made for children,If you look in their eyes you begin to realize or recognise that hunger makes us do crazy stuffs.
We drove to North Mombasa,and our first stop was in one of the largest slums — Bangladesh,Mombasa.
We are welcomed with lot of sewage flowing around due to a poor drainage system and no clean water for consumption;this indicates on what kind of life we expect here.
We met Different people,facing different challenges, their stories I dissolved into tears.
I learnt that for us to be grateful or show gratitude to the almighty, we should always look the kind of lives those bellow us live not the ones above us.
There’s another hungry mouths,as if hunger breeds as we are at home eating; Wheat Flower,sugar,margarine,salt, whole milk powder, yeast,monoglyceride,cocktail,pizza even night out drinking…
I met this old man I bet he didn’t get that toothbrush he needs— One tooth in the back that you’re not sure how he uses it And when he smiles it takes you a while before you turn away,Because that’s pretty gross.
That old man has never seen the pearly gates of Colgate.
What can we do;but speak out truth about what we’re seeing from around the world,there is so, much to be said if we would put down the phone and pull out our head and put on our glasses to see the scars that we pretend aren’t there.
I’m making out a call:
For the mathematicians,Here’s a problem.
For the scientists,experiment.
For the philanthropists,A call.
For the teachers and students,A lesson.
For the optimists,A chance to really believe.
The artists,A canvas and for the writers…
Oh,you writers,A prompt for you.
And how is this prompt calling for you to really believe in a canvassed lesson taught by an experimental problem?
Some cry climate change,Other’s say they’re deranged,As the conflict evolves
All our lives are involved.
Who’s right or who’s wrong and What’s the difference?
What’s the true future view,Is there more we can do,Before we become past tense?
We ask,”what of our children, next generation?
As they grow and we show them a future with no guarantees.
Why do they have to pay for our past generations’ misdeeds?
There’s so much confusion,Over lies and collusion.
Years teaching them right,Lessons lost overnight.
They see others lie with impunity—What’s wrong becomes right,Simply blow out the light,Darkness perverts civility.
What? Why do you lie?True science deny?
What?Why do you fight!Wrong becomes right?
What? Why do you hate?It’s almost too late!