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The struggle with many a rigid Logooli cultural practices

  The Logooli community is one of the deeply cultured societies – with near everything supposed to have been done as per custom – to allow another custom to follow. One example is that for a mature man (with a child or more) to be buried, there must be a house structure at home. Another is that a boy must be circumcised and nursed in father land. If maternal family decides to, the boy will have a hard time reconnecting with father people - a dent on his masculinity. There were two children who got burnt to death in a house in Nairobi. The single mother had left for night work. Elders were told that one of the children was Logooli. The other, the woman had sired with someone else. The Logooli family wanted to burry their little one and long discussed the do’s and don’ts. Of a man who died childless and the grave was placed as if he had died as a man with children. It should have been dug on the sides, the grave. A real thorn should have been thrust in his buttocks, his name go...
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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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