Kirimi Aritho A.

Is She Really a Witch?
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Beneath a brooding, bruised-black sky,
Ciolalanta voiced her thoughts, a smirk curling her lips—
“Never has what will happen tonight been seen,
Father, let tears from heaven cleanse our sin.”

She laughed—
For she had glimpsed the drought’s last breath
Dark clouds brimmed with nature’s wealth—
Rain...
Gain...
But pain…
Never had pain crossed her mind,
For rain, like mercy, falls blind—
On haves and nots alike it streams
A balance born of heaven’s dreams.

Facing the mountains,
Ciolalanta smiled—
A smile of hope, a mother’s wile.
Yet casting eyes to her co-wife’s keep
Her glance grew sharp, her heart sank deep.
Then home she turned
Frowning...

Night unfurled.
Homes were swept!
Dark clouds cloaked the starlit crest.
Darkness ruled—
And in its breath
Danced the silent angel of death.

And when the fall fell
It swept all—
Her co-wife’s house collapsed with call
The sickly child drew her final breath
Cradled cold in the arms of death

“Never has what will happen tonight been seen,”
Echoed Ciolalanta's words—her 'prophecy' keen.
Now, summoned before the elders grim—

'The witch who foretold fate so dim—'
Judged!
But who will speak for her?
Who will tell Ciolalanta didn't foresee death but life?
—abundance in blessings of rains—
Who?

Ichiaro is the Meru covenant of brotherhood—a pact not of blood, but of spirit—

Two men, once strangers, bind themselves as kin,
swearing loyalty that flows beyond lineage—a bond as enduring as the ridges of Nyambene.

Ichiaro is more than parallel brotherhood; it is a covenant brotherhood—a sacred oath where paths run side by side—never to betray, never to break—carrying the weight of fraternity into the hearts of generations unborn. This cultural belief is widely recognised across Meru region—especially Tiania subtribe, Igembe and Tharaka—three subtribes of Meru that are known for their cultural beliefs and their observance.

While some of Meru traditional-cultural practices have greatly faded in most regions due to incorporation of modernity, some beliefs may not be 'privileged' to find their way to oblivion soon, in spite of changes in time. Sadly, some have, and a belief in ichiaro seems one of them—

Ask a random Genz who are their clans covenant brotherhood—many wouldn't know!

But shouldn't they?
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[Seated under grass-thatched gazebo, Ithambû appears disturbed. He coughs...

"Again, badluck has struck my homestead—what a load of disobedience children!"

"Why did he have to insist on marrying from Antûbaitaa? Why did he?...Am I destined not to have an offspring?"...]

(sighs)
______________________________________________

At the middle of the day,
The sun set!
Dark clouds hovered above Ndauti's home.
"Who is it again?"
"Who could have listened to screech of the owl?"
"Or is it that homestead whose children could not heed elders' counsel?"
"Huh...poor Ithambû..."
"Kaimuri's ground porridge should not have been drunk in that homestead "
"Our clans forbid children from intermarrying..."
"...now, within just a few moons...and...and..."

(Lonely Ithambû stood up—
Blabbering...)

Something must be done... I've to do something lest my bones are buried without an offspring...(shouting) elders...elders... someone summon the elders—cleansing ought to have been done.

So, ladies and gentlemen, how do you think this cleansing is done? How do we stabilise these two loving couples?

For even covenant brotherhood (sisterhood) deserve their choice of love.

Follow Andy Kirimi

Standing akimbo, Kaimuri fixed her gaze on the approaching, well-built Ndauti.
Biting her finger—suggestively—she whispered to herself,
“I’ve got this… Kaimu, you’ve got this.”
______________________________________
Stand where you are…
Son of Ithambû…

I’ve a task for you—
One you should never have waited for me to ask.
Or can’t you see, Ndauti,
That I’ve been waiting?

Waiting… for the one who must sweep my homestead clean.
But you—pride of our clan—
Would rather walk away instead.

Son of Ithambû,
I have long heard your reputation—
That your hands never tremble,
That your broom stays as firm as the day it was made.

Ndauti… lend me your broom.
Help me sweep my compound.
For since Kiilu left,
The dust has claimed every corner.
My homestead lies hidden beneath neglect.

Take me home,
Son of Ithambû.

Or should I,
Daughter of Akiuna,
Remain untended—
Now that Kiilu is gone for good?

Don’t I deserve a clean home?
Take me home…
Son of Ithambû.
For everyone deserves to be home.

Towards Kaimuri’s hut walked Ndauti—son of Akiuna—the proud seed from which Ithambû draws his name and boasts his lineage.
Paa… Paa… Paa…
Each step rang with confidence, each stride carrying that easy smile which left the village women rooted to the ground, their eyes following him long after he passed.

Just beyond the weathered gazebo—where the chief and elders often gathered to sip their intoxicating brews and trade tales—Ndauti stopped.
His gaze fixed on Kaimuri’s door.

There, unwavering as a silent sentry, stood a spear—its shaft tall and proud, its tip catching the sun.
It was stylishly driven into the earth—a message spoken without words—

Ndauti’s smile deepened.
He turned.
And with unhurried steps, he made his way towards Atune’s hut, his grin lingering like a secret he alone understood.

_______________________________________

Teach me…
Teach me the wisdom of the old age—
The age when love was free,
When generosity had no fences,
When every child belonged to the village,
When responsibility was a shared fire—
And men…
Men did not know DNA,
But they knew the weight of a child’s smile.

Take me back—
Back to the revered age,
When meanness had no seat at the table,
When polygamy did not poison the heart,
When women lived as sisters,
When selflessness was the only language spoken,
When families were warm, whole…
Unbroken.

I remember…
Days of light faithfulness,
When men did not sleep in darkness,
When many doors stayed open,
When co-wives embraced at dawn,
When night was not for betrayal,
But for responsibility…
For care…
For keeping the fire alive.

Take me back—
Back to the days of health,
Before HIV knocked on the door,
Before inflation emptied our baskets,
Before greed touched our soil.
Back to the days of abundant love and wealth,
When cattle gave milk thick with life,
When the land sang under our feet.

Take me back…
To the good old days.
To the days when love was not counted,
When a neighbour’s child was your child,
When your hunger was my hunger,
When our joy was one joy.

Take me back—
Take me…
Take me…
Take me…
To the good old days.

Kirimi Aritho A.

NKIRINA, GIGGLER OF CITY DWELLERS:

She passed—we whistled
Dimpled Nkirina—she giggled
Dwellers of the city—
Aren't we choked by contaminated products of these streets?
Of use now, aren't they dusted feet from our revered hillbillies?
Luck now stands shoulders high
Lack now got its time nigh
Dwellers of the city, here comes Nkirina
Our Nkirina —girl of fortunate upbringing
Back in the mountains, she excelled in chores
Her tutelager— a grandmother of apt traditions
Ciokiondo, warned her not to warm strangers' hearts
That their hats hide faces of deep hurt
They who never got to their grandfathers' huts
Dwellers of the city—breakers of bones— shakers of honey cones
Nkirina was taught, not to broil dwellers of the city.
But she's here!
A deserter of her ear
Nkirina, giggler of city dwellers
She, our prey—our pray—passers of joy
For in this land, every lad must enjoy.
Rumpy pumpy
Won't her face be happy now?
Won't we breed her bow?
A bundle from the unknown to her grandmother
A cycle we passed that changed her cycle
We—city dwellers—
Givers of disillusion in caskets!
Back to the bush—Nkirina we sent
She who didn't hear her grandmother

Poem Copyrights: Andy Kirimi

Appreciation: In a profound way, I wish to express my sincere gratitudes to Carol Scamman , a seasoned poet who took time in spite of her other engaging activities to read, proofread and guide me in editing this poem. Thank you so much!

I think there is no need to prove that I love you, and this is what proves that I love you.

I think you don't care that I will always care about you, and that is how you care of my care about you.

I think my faith in love wouldn't be full without you, and that is how I became faithful

I think holding your left hand makes my heart beat right on my left

I think if you left my heart would still remain on your left and pull me right on your left

I think...

I think I ain't even thinking cos' my mind would mind thinking similarly in its right mind

I think...

HEARTBEATS

When our eyes set
I knew we were meant a set
I felt deep inside—
A pull of force
A pool of emotions
That I came to you
Is a pull of attraction
That I took action
Is wish of my heart
That hut we build together
Forever be our place to gather
For closer your smile is
Happier my heart is
Treasure of my heart
Lend me your hand
Pull me to your embrace
Forever I feel your heartbeats

They say, luck is when a blind cat meets a dead mouse.

When a mortal being tries to cover the sky with his palm, they call that arrogance and ignorance.

Only a delusional butcher prides in torturing a dead pig by pouring it a hot water...

A BROKEN SWORD

The word was out
That his sheath hosted a broken sword
But Ithambu gave this rumour less attention
For he believed in material that had forged his sword
A metal believed an ancient treasure

War came
And to the battlefield walked Ithambu
Proudly letting his battle intent sweep his opponents
In face of his intimidating aura shook faces in the opposite
For in him was that crashing killing intent
So fierce that his opponents disillusioned
But, still braced the field
Silently Ithambu watched war develop
Relaxedly unsheathing his sword
A step back he took
To watch sharpness of his sword dominate the field
But the scene he expected didn’t happen
A clash was heard
And his sword broke into two!
Pieces that reverted to pierce his heart
A death of blind trust
For if Ithambu did pay attention
He wouldn’t have carried his cracked sword to the battlefield
A general fell
He that deserved a long life

Better still being a chicken's head than a phoenix's tail—

There you find your honour, as a man.

While the early bird finds its fortune, the early worm finds its misfortune!

I think when love hits,
there are those kinda of its beats
of special flow which make ones body heat
I think....

I think there is no need to prove that I love you, and this is what proves that I love you.

I think you don't care that I will always care about you, and that is how you care of my care about you.

I think my faith in love wouldn't be full without you, and that is how I became faithful

I think holding your left hand makes my heart beat right on my left

I think if you left my heart would still remain on your left and pull me right on your left

I think...