Thursday, June 21, 2012

Walls, Windows, Doors/Ukuta, Madirisha, Milango -- June 19, 2012


FOR NOW//Eleanor Griplas

Visitors to our small tropical paradise, often pose
The same questions time and again,
just a different accent, their curiosity is uniform
 I give well -rehearsed replies to unoriginal questions
What brought you here? Was it for love?
Why did you leave England and your career?
The answer to that one is obvious and easy…
How long have you lived on this island?
My reply to that always causes much disbelief
Why are there so many half built houses?
And who camps out in these unfinished structures?
I am embarrassed to admit, I just don’t know
Who are these families? faceless and own homeless
Living in a shell of what one day, will be transformed
Once the owner has a bit more cash, into a grand abode.
There will be tiles and turrets, gold taps, chandeliers, marble this and that
gilt edged mirrors, A/C units, wi fi, DSTV
Electrified fences with warnings like “hatari” and “ mwizi”
one day these properties will look and feel like palaces,
for now they give a crude shelter, with unpainted walls, glassless windows
They are my neighbours - I don’t, and can’t, recognise them
 we live side by side, metres apart but at opposite ends of our worlds
They have patchwork cardboard windows that can’t be seen through
I hear the children, no glass to contain their cries or laughter
On the first floor balcony they chase each other
 round and round an unfinished column, Grecian in design
On the architect’s plans, I imagine, it has stucco and fine plasterwork
But for now it’s a tower of nondo and chipped saruji
With small grubby handprints half a metre high its only decoration.
Outside there is a fountain in the garden which one day will have
water spewing from the mouth of a posing cherub
For now, the youngster’s lips are dry and starting to crack
The garden is home to chickens, banana trees, a makeshift kitchen
For now, water for the household is fetched in bright yellow gallons
filled from my garden tap next door and carried across the divide,
A youth lumbers the gallon through the naked door frame,
pushing out of the way the pieces of a misshapen corrugated iron jigsaw
this barrier serves as a flimsy deterrent from intruders
but for now there’s nothing to steal, no desirable possessions.
The Zanzibari door is on order with its traditional carving
of fish, flowers, fruit , the symbols of wealth and prosperity
but for now there’s no need for a door, not until the house is ready
and fit to be lived in… for now, its a roof over their heads – but who are they?

ON EITHER SIDE//Amanda Leigh Lichtenstein

I’m leaning against the wall I should be climbing.
They say it’s all about timing.
All walls have their other sides, a version of me
Over there, wanting to reach that version of me, over here.
Over there, it’s fair. Over there, it’s kind.
Over here, it’s fear. Over here, it’s wine.
Over there, it’s family and clocks.
Over here it’s the promise of not wearing socks.
My back is pressed to my self’s back,
Hands gripping knees,
Knees pulled up to chin.
We are the same on either side, but better.
One of us is married, speaking to her husband.
One of us is single, speaking to her pen.
One of us is restless, one of us is calm.
One of us has no idea what’s going on.
One of us is far away, one of us is close.
One of us silent, one verbose.
Just a wall between us now, built
To shut out all doubt, all birds who chirp
From a different perch. One flew over with a song,
But is it not too late to start now?
It’s dark, we’re still, there are entire lives to till.
She’s leaning against the wall she should be climbing. 

FROM THE WALL TO THE DOOR//Mustafa Sharif

Taken all of us inside
The wall around us
No body knows, no body say
Why and how we are confined

It’s not us, not our consent
That took us here
To trade our being
And make us hopeless, helpless
Ill fated creatures

This wall around us
Made us losers, we lost
Our rights
Our dignity
Our Freedom

This wall we will climb
Through the window of freedom
We will see the door
And crawl to reach prosperity

KUTA, MILANGO NA MADIRISHA//Mohammed Saleh Ali

"Les Murs" des Monde kuta, ya ulimwengu ni Changamoto kwa ajili ya watu wa kushinda
Milango tu kupunguza mafungu yake kupitia kuta na madirisha tu kama yeye peeps kuona dunia ya nje, yatainama katika entwining yake ya milele glares

Kuta, milango, madirisha, mambo ulimwenguni yenye maboma, kimsingi ya kawaida kwa majengo yote, Small au kubwa kutengeneza usanifu ukuu kwamba maumbo na aina na wabunifu kwamba kuangalia na kiburi kama miundo stoically kusimama nje ya mji wa ukingo maumbo na aina kuamua mazingira ya mijini na vijijini

Nguvu nene kuta attunes ngome za mali zilizotumika katika maamuzi yao,
Dhaifu nyembamba kuta smart up econometrics matumizi ya wadogo,
Wala anakataa kanuni ya kinga kuwa watu wote kutoa fomu na miundo kutoka kanuni ya umati wa watu na umati wa watu au umati wa watu kama wakati watu nakala miundo

Cocoons ya furaha makao, fahari ya wale ambao huduma na kuona maajabu ya mwamba aliwaangamiza katika mbao ili sahihi suala bado rahisi furaha ya mioyo ya wengi kuangalia, kukaa na admire
Kupumzika, kuwafariji mwenyewe, kufungua madirisha kwa airs cools wewe chini, kufungua milango kukimbilia katika kila upepo kubeba hivyo kuchukua huduma na kuziba ufunguzi tu kufunga mlango!

Kuta huilinda wewe kwa usalama, kulinda kutoka kwa misimu demises ulinzi, na soundproofs
siri wengi wa furaha na upendo, uhalifu chuki na adhabu, ugunduzi na uvumbuzi
lakini si katika mgodi ambapo ya faragha na usiri ni mired na kuta na wajane wazi karibu kugusa kila kupungua mitaani nyingine bums kutembea kwa namna fulani kujua nini kinaendelea katika kuta na kutosha funny kwamba utalii ushujaa kwa showcasing badala ya kubomoa kwa bora ya fashions ya sasa katika ukarabati

Yote katika yote ya kivita ni wao kuwapiga majira dexterity derailing tani ya wakazi wa gentemot a gentemot mara kwa mara wasafiri tathmini.

Pamoja na ubukuzi sauti zote Utakao wafunika kukita ngome, astute ni kuta sana wavers si, kupungua statures kama viumbe uncomforting kufanya habari wakati kujenga mpya kutoka commonness ya wale walio karibu

Milango entrances wako katika mapenzi kama Kwa Windows peep dunia ya nje kama kuta masanduku katika mtu na familia laini na uzuri coated na rangi chiseled na mchanga sprayed juu ya ukuta wa nje na rangi ya maji ya ukuta wa ndani. Au tu nyeupe nikanawa na pambazuka muda mfupi kwa monotones kusikitisha kikamilifu katika faragha

Confinements - upweke uhakika miaka katika miaka ya nje stoically ukuta anasimama,
 iwe mvua au jua na katika muda wa mwani na uwanja wa michezo fungi na mashimo mwiko mkubwa.
Solo usiku licking ndoto kuzamishwa katika nyota atrociousness, jinsi rough mlango Arabia ni kama kutoka kwa ndani?

Jinsi nzuri ni hiyo kwa nje na blends ya shaba kwa minarets spiking tunaambiwa kwa ajili ya ulinzi dhidi ya tembo nchini India sasa akageuka Kiarabu katika enclaves wa Kiswahili wa Mji Mkongwe
Baadhi ya milango ni nene kama Kiarabu ambao ujenzi yake, labda bado mengi ni nyembamba kama seremala waliopanga hivyo, bado wengi kama dhaifu kabisa kama watumwa ambao kuweka kuta miaka mingi iliyopita

Hata hivyo wakati wote kufukuzwa karibu kwa dalili zamani hawana Visa kupita katika ukuta yangu kwa ajili ya mmiliki ni mtu kijijini kwa wale yeye kukabidhiwa, kununua na kuuza kwa wakati alifanya vizuizi kati maker na mmiliki, sasa inabidi tu admire kazi mara moja kufanyika sasa Imechezwa kama urithi wa asili.

Kuta na nguvu na astute kushikilia milango sawa na madirisha na milango galore kwa changamoto kifungu kwa njia ya Binadamu wakati kunyonya alifanya ngome ya wahalifu wale akalazwa na Chama kufanywa na default ......... ambaye ni lawama?

Malezi na sheria kupitishwa ilichukuliwa shaghalabaghala maisha spans mwangalizi wa bahati na kushuhudia unlucky kupata garrisoned katika kuta bila madirisha wakati au milango ya milango grilled chuma

Ukoloni mara moja ngome, Uhuru unlocked milango, madirisha na kipato na benki amana yanakuja na fedha mengi kupitia madirisha winful sisi kupata fedha.
Hata hivyo ni wachache tu kufurahia hizi kuta ghaibu milango na madirisha kama mataifa yanaendelea ambapo watu wakaacha. Kuta, milango na madirisha miundo ya msingi ya domains mara nyingi stoic openers kwa matumaini baadhi ya. 
Lakini tovuti omboleza baadhi ya fursa hizi kwa ajili ya firewalls, mtu djupt moto nje ya kudhibiti yake, hakuna kufanya kweli kama intrusions kupita si firewalls, windows kufanywa na kufanyika vizuri, functionally kutoa tuzo katika kucheza haki.
Ustadi hujenga kudumaa furaha kwa ajili ya kona ya raundi ya virusi likizidi achilia hukua na mashambulizi katika mapenzi.

Kuta si kukua lakini madirisha unaweza slide na kufunga kufungua tena bado milango ni thickest ya ubunifu mtu alifanya katika nyanja zote, baadhi ya kusisitiza juu ya pivoting kwenda pande zote na pande zote

Kupinga wao screech au tu waziwazi si kufungua au kufunga na mapenzi ya mtu.
Katika kuta nafasi yoyote ni lazima kwa ajili ya madirisha usafi kuwekwa haki kwa kifungu na Doors kuruhusu exit na kuingia. Hivyo nafasi, usafi na kifungu ndoto wagombea binafsi 'waliozaliwa upya.
Kuta kama madirisha na milango ni lazima kwa ladha yoyote nzuri mans na anapenda.
Nchi exit na kuingia pointi ni milango Mataifa nje ya mipaka. Visa tu got kupitia vifungu kibali madirisha wanaohitaji nguvu nguvu kama ukuta wa kutokea bila ya moto ambayo parley hakuna milango au madirisha.

Firewalls kuweka mbali intruder alright, katika kompyuta kwa muda mrefu Bill Gates '

Mafanikio sisi mara nyingi kukataa maono kama kushindwa kama vidole, kama kipanya Clicks na slides pointer, kufunga au kuanza logi madirisha, fanciful entrances, zisizohitajika anapumua, stanching vyumba wakati madirisha imefungwa.

Kwa usiri sisi isipokuwa kuta nguvu na
 milango toughness
 na madirisha fursa
 kuwa muhimu kama moyo beats
 katika maisha kongwe
na marudio tiresome ya boredom maisha Guinea.

Hey watu kuweka akapiga magoti mbele yake na mimi kama mimi dhana ya ukuta, mlango na dirisha milele isiyoweza kutengwa?



HOUSE OF LOVE//Said Suleiman

When he looked at the doors
he knew they were not locked
then he was so much tempted to get in
as he got through there was no restriction,
though he was unexpected guest, he was welcomed.
When he saw walls of the house
painted red color
with decorated love-signs of matured heart
he just lost control
his heart stopped still
to match with the quiet beating
of the painted heart on the walls.
As he cruised round the house
he just knew this was his destination
Then he looked at the windows
to see the outside world
but he saw nothing
nothing to attract his eyes and heart
And so he stayed
in the house of love
feeling very happy and pleased as never before.
The owner of the house is a very beautiful young lady
who although owns such a very beautiful house
she’s never been happy living alone in such a house
till one day when the unexpected guest
knocked on her door
and made her heart stop still
to match with the quiet beating of the guest’s heart
but the matching between two hearts
was exactly the language of love
for between the host and the guest
there was no immediate exchanging of words
but the two hearts simply said “Love”
then the hearts started beating faster
to mark the beginning of the unstoppable love.
Then one day the two sat together talking;
“This house is now yours”
“No, this house is yours”
“Then this house is ours”
“Yes, this house is ours”
“The house of love”.
                                                                                        

UNTITLED //Julia Bishop

The front door first, naturally
Will tell of travellers, seafarers
Will speak of welcome and protection
Will stand austere and promising
Will whisper of yesterday – but today
Will suggest another place – that’s here..

Inside, other doors – gracefully arched
Will be perfectly pitched and softly crowned
Will lead from cool green-lit spaces
Through bevelled pillars into silent places
Will draw the eye – forwards and beyond
Will lead the mind through – to elsewhere..

Walls without, straight, high, with Roman tiles
Blank where secrets need concealing
Open where the home wants revealing
Within they will be clean-cut, fresh and white
Will offer niches, alcoves, hidden places
Opaque, then not, then maybe  – or somewhere..

Windows narrow, slender, elegant
Will look over an endless blue, blue sea
Will open wide to step outside
Will be shaded Moorish-ly, for cool, cool breeze
Will draw in sweet breath from far away
With soften with blossoms, with jasmine -  with now.

My doors are opening, showing places to find,
Strong enough to prevent evil and keep within good.
My walls separate areas of time and space,
They bring the essential balance and control.
My windows present a gaze over a chosen world,
And are the sentinels of an open mind.


THE GREAT OUT “DOORS” // Sterling Roop

Drip, drip, drip the sounds of water seeping in. Seeping into the stove, the sleeping bags, our clothes, and our climbing gear. Seeping through the walls, the door and even the tiny window of our new found home, or jail? As the water seeps in, the four of us yearn to get out!

Tumefungwa!
Three days of carrying 35 kilo packs. Miles and miles, over mountain passes, down into valleys, over a high summit. Now we are walled in by the sheer granite of a high alpine basin.

Kweli hii ni liziko?
Out! Out of our tent, out of these nylon walls! It has been two days and the rain has not let up. Our shelter is no match for the force of mother nature.

Tumekwama!
The walls of this basin are shear and jagged. Carved by the forces of time, wind, water, and ice. The very forces trapping us in these walls!  We arrived with the goal of using the North Ridge as our door, a door that only opens with a unique key. Endurance, overcoming fear, and an unending series of delicate moves over steep rock, ice and snow. But now, now we are not even allowed to use our key, cut over months of training combined with years of experience.

Tulichonga ufunguo! Ufungo huu ulichongwa na mazowezi, jasho, an nguvu!

Here we are at the door, with the keys, ready to use them.
A door to the heavens.
A door to a unique bond with friends.
A door to the thrill of endangering your life to experience something exceptional, something indescribable.
A feeling and a place that most humans would never dare experience.
A feeling of being closer to our maker, to nature, or to god. Whatever that is.

Alhamdulillahi!

But it is not to be. Mother nature has shown her power. She is the gatekeeper and the door is to remain closed. Drip, drip, drip… another day passes, we get even wetter. Is that is possible? Everyone and everything is soaked to the bone.

Now only one door remains open to us, but one that is closed tight with stinging nettles, rushing rivers, slippery rocks. One that leads us out of the walls of this basin, home. Home to the walls of responsibility, work, our daily lives. Walls that are made by man, symmetrical and neat.  Now two days of struggle before reaching the trailhead. Two days of cold wet hiking, but two days without any walls, windows or doors.

Two days of freedom to savor the beauty of the world we live in and blessed lives we live.
Tunazo Baraka za Mungu. Uhuru ni tamu, Uhuru ndio maisha!


NEW WORLD, OLD WORLD//Thomas Green

I had to go, just had to.
Opportunity knocking at my door!
A position in a new show in far away Spain.
Just what I had been hoping for.
 I saw myself as not fitting in
Not quite right in this U S of A
I felt a misfit of sorts  now in the city of sin.
I loved it, but was I a Las Vegas babe?
I traversed the airport leaving sin city
Slot machines even in the men’s room
To play your luck wherever you be.
Then through gate 4 I was boarding a plane
To take me across the great sea.
I looked out the windows so small
as we rolled on I lay back and let out a sigh
greater things much greater than I
unknown they awaited beyond.
I was flying ever so far, such a long way.
From tarmac in Vegas to tarmac in Spain,
I travel anxious and so expectant of what?
I was in a waking dream
In a daze unsure how things might be.
My destination? Barcelona Spain.
I did not speak hardly a Spanish word. So insane!
As I arrived in such a singular place
What I noticed first was so many armed guards.
Ak -47’s hanging on their shoulders,
at each turn as they paced.
Barcelona airport’s towering windows looked out
on a new world, Old World though it was.
From here Columbus sailed the high seas.
New to me were the sights, sounds, aromas.
Intriguing metropolis upon bright sea coasts.
A water powered time-piece so strange and intriguing
Tickled my senses, trickling waterworks sublime.
Water gushing, cascading to crank through the gears
Of a  quirky Salvador Dali design.
They welcomed me to the realm, Barcelona

She met me at the curb by the taxi rank
Just past the enormous glass enclose
Through the sliding glass doors awaiting my arrival
Was Christina, Tweet to her friends I was told.
A tall lank blonde , her hair taughtly drawn
To a ponytail slapping her ever so straight back.
Her forehead protruding like a baby doll
Round forhead like cartoon Tweetybird’s
set upon her slim neck.
That object of cat Tom,s constant cravings’
she was a brief guide to the sights into town,
An obvious resident enthralled still excited
Gingerbread houses scattered here and there, Gaudi crafted
Architecture distinctive do so abound.
Wedged Like Lego blocks were edifices of heavy weathered stone
Mostly uniform pillared buildings they were
Greek  & Roman of influence regal they be.
In Europe at last I’m here dumbfounded. “Gob Smacked.”
There was too much yet to see.
To my hotel room tiny, it felt so strange.
Scents all new to my senses,
What awaited me in this odd place?
Four walls and a widow to a
The balcony so narrow, I looked out.
A wrought iron balustrade of bulky design
below me Gran Via people promenading.
Passers-by dressed in browns and grays
they seemed so conservatively dressed.
Long coats dour colored as they go on their way
Though their chatter animated and bright
The Spanish were quite friendly soon I’d see
After I had stayed there many a night.
Unintelligible to me was the language this my first day.
so I began my first Spanish lessons so intense.
For an urgent need now swelled up deep inside.
From the door of my hotel room at La Gran Havana
To the theater was just a brief walk.
Down the stairs I went after my toast and butter breakfast
Strong coffee the taste lingers as I walk
To the Gran Via to La Scala di Barcelona
So much traffic at plaza Tetuan,
the brass trimmed doors of the Scala did there await me.
On the wall a brass box showing off a show poster
of the show now performing whereof.
Where my work is to dance, it was to be done.
A  new door was open, or so I thought
With a extravaganza at Barcelona’s Scala
But a wall I would suddenly confront.
Not one of brick or of mortar
But of scorn undeservedly won.
I was brought there to replace dear old Rupert,
A dancer, he was everyone’s friend so it seemed.
Here I was to them an arch-enemy from day one.
Though this I knew nothing of , nor wanted or caused.
Who was I to them but an American upstart
A foreigner too young, inexperienced I was.
Brought in to replace their beloved Rupert.
He was scrawny and awkward as a dancer for sure.
What fault was it mine he was rejected,
By powers that be so it were?
Not a soul in that theater to befriend me,
due to something I did not actually do.
There a wall was there placed before me
My work made unpleasant, gone awful, askew.
So I looked out the door for my solace
Friendship and comfort I needed in this new place
With but an inkling of the language I had that day one
I managed in the end to find a love to embrace.
By the stage door Amancio one night with a rose awaited
among firemen rushing about to and fro.
The theater tumbling down that day so created
Opportunity to escape my pain.
He was there by the stage door against all the odds
my fair Amancio, oh so handsome and gentle.
From  that day forward all would work well so I thought
Doors opened wide after all of the suffering.
No wall before me would defeat me,
For they had all charred and had fallen.

           



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