June 2018 . Revolution.

The  half-year of reflection.

We aren’t where we ought to be

When we can

Its because we are alone.

The beauty of dependence is now known.

All in one month; Google Ad Grant registration, Osborne Macharia exhibition, a workmates bash, Fadhilee half life music, Kaleka Keys Album launch, meet up with a new dedicated Producer Mr Karanja and crazy more influencing moments this June .

Moreover, I  cracked  a meeting single- handedly and got a huge real estate company to believe in my campaign management I am putting up as the Dotsavvy Africa Campaign manager.

Butterflies are alive again in my green grass.

I feel my voice expand the vocal range by two octaves. Yaaiks!

The church bells are ringing .

The sirens are wailing.

A tense success is about to come and I couldn’t want it any other way .

God , I wonder how you keep on blessing me. Thank You.

Also, some people do come in your life and hold your hand through it all failures and even success.

I thank among the few: one guy , Kelvin, for being this person. One person comes into your life and impacts your relationship with even your family in a positive way and I am more open and confident to stand up for myself.

I appreciate him and in whatever amount of duration he will exist in my life , I hope to assist him in his journey too. If any of you have that at the least one person that stands by you , do them justice and give them their due.

Chance and choice, 20180622_203247I get .

The silence of artists in the British Institute of East Africa as they listened to me , raised a level of confidence in me. A subject of taking our craft serious , that as artists there is no destination.

We are the workers who never retire, the dwellers whose stay has no departure and true we,are most importantly the sanity in prowess.

Stay true , sail on never arrive.

This June 2018 marks new possible heights of wisdom and intellect.

God’s laid out journey for me never ceases to amaze me.


Mugumo…She is a shrine.

Her departure to adulthood has different turnouts but she is still a shrine.

Her demise of fatherhood or Her experience of good fatherhood is Chance

Her counterpart, he, relies on the plural , she single- handedly will  set spirits to work.

Her main life storyline being unravelling the crystal picture of true love.

Let me let one shrine remind you a story:

“This was love: a string of coincidences that gathered significance and became miracles.”
― Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun

Whether one considered her quest as a fail or win, she is the mugumo tree that is never felled.

Selpha says; “I am the shrine that never features it’s time.

The person you live longest with is yourself, get to know you.

A lawyer is paid to defend his client; monetary reasons period.

Why then dear shrine be defenseless and you are the force of nature.

Across all denominations, religion, color, status and even nationality, you command whole nation men with a silent whisper.

Want to try it?Stare into a man’s eyes and see him reactin kind ready to receive instruction.

Your beauty is never skinned like wool from the sheep, after His touch.

After the violence , After the burn, after your Loss.

You are Africa woman , you are a shrine, a mugumo tree. Shrine on!

Waking up as a new born every day.

to make new born hope 

to be the answered  prayer 

by everyone eagerly awaited for

everywhere, her absence is a bad omen

curves of the creator’s wisdom

hands where problems laid turn into calming solutions.

Mother, sister, daughter, career woman, bearer of new fruit.





Element, Energy ..Environment.

[Inspiration straight from a Monk’s perspective.]

When we know element is who we divinely are, energy as the pendulum that rises and lowers on different days and environment as who or what we surround ourselves, we are complete.

Being complete isn’t the presence of one or the other ;it is the process of balance of these aspects of Life.


I search for sight from a blind man.

I wait to listen what the deaf had to answer to the shouting woman.

I crawl hoping to straighten my legs, never risking a fall.


It is who, what and how things and people are around us.

In our 20s we lean most of the times to the short-term environment.

Parties, bashes, dates and media.

where are life term friends ,siblings and soulmates placed?


She looks like Kylie, Kim or Khloe Kardashian.

He acts like Will Smith and Denzel Washington.

They are just singing like the Beatles.


The divinity of self.

The simplicity of being to your full-level of complexity.

Souls define their own mannerism,

Implicated by environment differently and to some extent but never confused as the duplicate of the surrounding.

Explosions , busts of laughter and scenes of tears drenching pillows.

Life takes turns , but your energy turns around the overall effect.


Things fall in line depending on the energy you give out everyday.

Turbulence occurs and the energy behind forgiveness, appreciation and pardon turns destinies around.

Inspired by Jay Shetty,

Inspirational Speaker and Former Monk.

(YES,its the one you follow on Facebook)

5 Jay Shetty Quotes to Help You Be More Grateful



I walk on streets wide and narrow,

My father preached wine, I drank it in full.

Drunk, I covered myself with vibranium.

In need of alms of grace.

‘You cant frame, cant fix a car, cant ride a bike and surely cant provide here’

I hear frogs croaking the words he raised me with.

So I covered myself with baggy trousers till my knees.

Not to be defined by my skirt.


I can do anything my mind is set to,

I have to cross the road.

No zebra crossing, no warning signs,

I had to meet the incomplete circuit at the next terminal.

I covered myself with distant humble fragrance to appease the one who birthed me.

I nailed it, our paths never crossed since the 19-year terminal I left behind.


All of a sudden cars flood the empty road.

Where did they come from?

I choke similar to how I put people,s perception down into my throat.

What a handful!





I keep on walking in a cold misty road

It’s crazy how the furthest I see is a hot Sahara desert

With a mirage overlooking it.

Well, I guess I should enjoy these GLOVES








It is one thing to hear of an artist in Africa and the cry for them to be supported by the local government, but it is another if a man is an artist from the heart and know his purpose.

Meet Patrick Mukabi, a well-known artist in Kenya who has renamed artistry by defiance to quit the discouraged career, by many in the oblivion, to being a fine artist.



He has gone further into taking new levels with his purpose as a teacher, a mentor and as a global art influencer showcased on platforms such as CNN.

I did meet this man 4 years ago when he was working at the Go-Down Centre before he relocated to his own space at the Railways Museum.

He stands out as a man true to nature as he paints with a detailed eye to the surrounding.

His insights on the woman’s role in the African society has inspired most of his painting and defied all odds in terms of his impressionist style.

“One look at the man and you will feel at home,” says every artist he has put under his wing. Patrick Mukabi is an inspirational leader who is equally a generous as he is a painter. His doors were open to me three years ago when I needed a place to help me get inspired and I met many artists looking for the same kind of inspiration and are now known in their own style of art.

Among the nurtured talents are BSQ  a team of three: Msale, Bebeto, and Kaymist, who has represented Kenyan graffiti globally and in many international exhibitions.

Clavers Odhiambo a renown hyper-realist in Kenya, Joan Otieno who has represented us in an exhibition in South Adelaide in Australia, Richie(njogukuria) whose musical inspiration has led him to make art from Vinyl records.

Most especially me, An abstract realist with a craze for colors to tell the African stories.

He does not only inspire artists but lives to serve children as he has laid down his canvas for children in an exhibition he has been selected to showcase.

“I am inspired by the simplicity of how children come up with shapes and concepts,” Patrick says in one of the many Dusit D2 exhibitions I have been with him.

He as the heart of the art and simply understands the art to Africans’ heart.

All credits go to the Dust Depo family and to Mr. Patrick Mukabi who I am well privileged to ever blog about.

IG: @artistpatrickmukabi

FB: @Patrick Mukabi

A recent article on the African Voices (CNN):https://edition.cnn.com/videos/world/2018/05/03/african-voices-patrick-mukabi-kenya-art-artist-a.cnn



Heightened Clouds.

Its like the only thing that reminds me that i am human is the urge to eat.

I am in denial , my son , i am in denial.

Kenya lies on plains and plateaus- I have been  skydiving in America:A land I have never been on.

My son I have imagined the Himalayas whilst Kirinyaga awaits my arrival.

I have been living in a slim body in my mind.

Your father watching me go for more rounds on the platter.

My beloved, I have forgotten my  land in search for another;

Living a refugee in my female body never meeting up with reality and have a proper rapport,

To understand that I am a lady and there is a way the world interprets it.

A journalist view on life is that bad news is a good income for him. A doctor relies on your sickness to feed his family.

A fireman employed for the case of fire in your office or house.

I mean who is employed by God for the positive reason.

ARTIST_ my son so if you ask me why your father and I are artists with a business persona inside us.

We will gladly report, its truly for the positive well being of a human race. My son when your bus arrives for you before the time for school, early in the morning, run to catch it.

Do not hop into galaxies never meant for you, for worldly short-lived treasures. See beyond heightened measures.

Hulk on the earth and into the sky proudly. You know why?

for you are your parents’ Blackbird.20180405_125724.jpg


BUTTERFLY MAN JimDre Westbrook, 32-Year-Old Virgin Man (Photos) – Romance – Nairaland

He rose to see the sun from a different spectrum, he camouflaged with the leaves.

He had not seen the sun for ages.

I see him staring at the horizon daily . The lonely eyes and weak antennae not able to feel what the other butterflies lust . He feels compromised that he chose to camouflage the leaves rather than the roses.

He finds hard to understand the others are savage and he should be happy to represent the green. The male sees only the inexperience he has of roses . Those that dawn and dusk on the dripping nectary- red petals, take turns to laugh at him in exchange .

They run when caught up with the rough and tumble inside the flowers, the anthers and the stigma roughly rubbing onto their wings:

Once so beautiful are scratched. They are bruised but they can’t see, although he is not blind to it; to the pain as well as the pleasure they are having.
He thirsts for nectar , the ever-loving sweet nectar . He stares at one dark red rose that looks dead and dreaded , without water ,without the enticing dripping droplets they first felt quenching.

The cold comes in after the sun goes down, a time where the other butterflies go into hiding but he remains. The dull rose flower whispers,”Please love me tenderly, come in its cold outside, hold me gently, I promise I still have the warmth you long for “.

In the still cold air, an airy pin drop moment of holy silence is felt where the butterfly stares in awe of the dull rose before performing the sacred ritual.This time the moon’s light illuminates the wings of the butterfly as he crosses over to the dull rose . On the ground only mud, bare as it holds the cast shadow of the flying butterfly.
The moon, the other roses and the cloud of distracting-oblivious moths are the only witnesses to the ceremony. The antennae of the butterfly come alive, the 3-paired legs rub each other in the air as to prepare for the landing. Elated: as the abdomen and the thorax adjusting its size time after time, time freezes with every movement that may distract the beautiful scenery as the male butterfly goes into the dull rose to drink of the juice so forgotten, so misused and now its the begotten. Love was birthed for the dull rose and in the morning, they rose together, blossomed together and that’s how Tom remained in love with Rumi#tom and Rumi
inspired literature from reading the publication of the 31-year-old virgin and with a spicy twist of him(TOM finding a broken girl called Rumi.
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