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Luanda Reggae Defenders - what is your long term agenda?

Luanda Reggae Defenders is a now a popular movement with roots in Vihiga and border Siaya and Kakamega counties Attention is brought to the manner and conduct the movement has gained fame and followers, mainly the Youths. The movement capitalizes on funerals. With a poor culture of putting the dead to rest, the Reggae Defenders have taken it by storm and rebranded the infamous ‘Disco Matanga’ – disco at funeral. Reggae Defenders on move. Pic: Charles Rankings: Facebook They mobilize quickly on the day the dead will be discharged from the mortuary. They have this huge old school sound system that is over buzzing to no clear reggae song - that they hire a pickup to carry - and it has a young DJ mainly standing there than mixing anything. Often, against the rules, the casket is grabbed from a hearse vehicle and tied to a motorbike. There it will be swayed and jerk breaked between other motorbikes on the narrow roads. That, is, how a fellow soldier, often a young dead, is mourned. ...
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MOON; 1-09-2015 (Desperateness)

She texted and I managed to text back. She is the girl my heart has been cursing. I was not myself for the day- malady effects? I went as far to tell her than I can marry her the very day I see her. Really? What was up with me? My blog is my diary. Enjoy

That is among the crazy ideas of late. Haven't I explored suicide? what of insomnia? I went to bed with least expectations of sleep. And when I slept...the dream was desperate.

The moon ran to hide in the clouds. I was desperate for its view in the smoky sky. I never saw it again for the clouds extended to a gloomy morning. I guessed where the moon was in the sky and captured. Our people burry a banana stem in one's grave when it is believed that a person died away and his body could not be brought for burial. 


In the dream I was with the girl - the one I texted. We were walking past our neighbour and the son came out sad and in a midst of cry said, 'Even water is under the bed'. I heard and bent in a cunny cry that the neighbour knew what it was meant for. My neighbour has a populated house- aimless children brought to life. I mocked her for that. She responded by words I never understood.


Sitting outside alone, in a changed place, a certain lunatic was burning my basin over a fire- a stick held it high. It pained me. I shouted, 'I  know the person who did this to me' and the guy turned to show he understood my point. I apologised quickly.

He came towards me, roughing me up on his shoulder. I tried to escape and be away from him but I couldn't. His face had rough fresh wounds as a sign of terror. As I tried to wail for help, no one heard- or they ignored. There was a woman who saw but continued her job. I was going to be harassed, abused and killed probably. What now?

My left hand got hold of his adam apple. And squeezed. And squeezed. I was not using much effort but it was getting hold of him. His eyes balled...he was going...I was well killing him...I was killing him! I was getting free...a call waked me up. I often shut my phone. I forgot.

Desperation? It can be that bad with such tragic consequences. And I waited for what the stars had for me in the day. The book I am reading is Confessions of a Sociopath by M.E. Thomas.

Thank you.

The moon may be someone there. Is it?

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