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.
