Pitch Five Presents Footprints


Pitch Five was formed in late November 2010. The name denotes five christian pillars that the band stands for, namely humility, prayer, discipleship, faith and truth. It is these pillars that define the band. Pitch five comprises eight versatile members. Due to the blend of different affiliations in genres and styles of music of the members, the band produces a rich sound and a unique fusion of a variety of tastes into one. Moreover, each distinct preference in approach complements the other without the domination of a style over the other. 

FOOTPRINTS is a story told in music of how a group of young men and women embarked on a journey to glorify God with their musical passion. It’s an outward expressions that God’s grace has had upon their lives when they look back and see how far the Lord has brought them (I Samuel 7:12). 

Pitch Five invites you to join them in this token appreciation and celebration of the glory of the Lord as they take you through their journey … how far the Lord has brought them. The event is dubbed FOOTPRINTS and the theme verse is I Samuel 7:12 … “Thus far has the LORD helped us.”

Details are on the poster but for the sake of us who need reminding, here they are again: 

DATE: Sunday, 2 December 2012

TIME: From 2:30PM

VENUE: Nairobi Baptist Church Ngong Road, Bethel Santuary

DAMAGE: FREE!!!! (just bring yourself)

 Like the pitch five page on facebook, follow them on twitter and RSVP the event on facebook.

 This is one event you do not want to miss!

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I am Angry


by Fancy Face

I am angry. I have been angry almost all my life. This year I decided to deal with the real issues. Go back to where it all began; release. As part of letting go of my anger, I’ve decided to talk, and even though I remain anonymous, at least it’s a step… AND A BIG ONE for me.

You know what pisses me off?… Pedophiles, child rapists: Like how in the world with all the women running around loose, do you look at an 8 year old and get an arousal and even plan how you’re going to have your way with her. How in your twisted mind do you picture you inserting your full blown hard on in to her tiny Vagina…? What kind of sick person are you to get an arousal just by staring at her tiny tiny tits, things that do not even qualify to be called boobs because frankly they look like deflated pimples.

In what world do such people think it’s okay for you to take advantage of a child that loves you, with all the innocence that kids have, a child who cared deeply enough for you to call you UNCLE! Or is it because in all this innocence she decided to be coming to your house to help you do the dishes, because at even such a tender age of 8, she realized ‘unco’ is too busy to do dishes so she helped out. Did her undertaking these chores paint the evil image in your mind that she could be wife-able… such that you even imagine fucking the innocence out of her is a good idea?

I’m angry. I’m angry at horny dysfunctional house girls who think that they can get satisfaction by fucking the boss’ baby every day when she’s away at work. I’m angry that they get to get away with this because the nine year old child is too scared to speak – because you made her kneel down every day to ask God for forgiveness after fucking her to you fulfillment. Don’t watchmen love house helps? Or was that child the safer bet because she wouldn’t get her pregnant? And isn’t the joy of coitus the penetrations? How is humping a little girl’s pussy any satisfaction?

I’m angry… Angry at that teacher in Boarding School who thought it was appropriate to caress a student’s butt in the name of preparing it for caning … Feeling her tiny ass with your hands, are you looking for cancerous lumps or something? Doesn’t your wife at home sort out your needs? If not I’m sure there are many women out there wiling to sort you out? A student, surely what kinds of demons dwell within you!

I’m angry that this child did not have the courage to speak to anyone when all this happened because she was afraid; afraid of being judged, afraid of not being believed. Afraid because, as Africans we have not raised our children in this manner – to dialogue, about things that disturb them, things they go through every day.

I have forgiven, but not forgotten. And frankly I do not think such acts can be forgotten. You learn to live with them, to block it out each day and act like it never happened. But I got tired of pretending all is well with me; because on the outside I was this bubbly person, but on the inside I was broken, hurting, furious…. DAMAGED!

So I’m sorry if my anger bothers the world… But the world hasn’t exactly been kind to me either. My only regret is that it bothers such people, people I care about- for such people I chose to deal with this anger, asked God for help and let it go. Let it all go because walking around with such burdens took a toll on me. I want to be free. I want to believe that there’s a reason and a purpose this happened to me, and one day it will all make sense.

Someone told me that everyone has their own time of healing/ dealing. Some take a day others a lifetime. We are all different. But I know and believe that someday I’ll look back and not be angry; pain yes, but not anger. And that day is coming because I finally decided to accept what happened and move past it. All I need is TIME. As unknown wise man once said;

‘”You cannot put a Band-Aid on every boo-boo you’ve made, some just need time to heal ~ Unknown”

About the Author: Fancy Face is a very good friend of mine who wants to remain anonymous. If you think she should grace this space again with another post, let her know in the comments section.

Knee –jerks from a Burlesque Writer


By Akhatenje

  1. Read bad books.
  2. Read very bad books.
  3. Read good books.
  4. Read very good books.
  5. Do not kiss a published author’s ass, especially if you have not read his or her book.
  6. Prudishness is not your friend. Do not be a prude.

Prude: noun (disapproving) a person that you think is too easily shocked by things connected with sex.

Prudery: noun (formal, disapproving) the attitude or behaviour of people who seem very easily shocked by things connected with sex.

Prudish: adjective (disapproving) very easily shocked by things connected with sex.

-Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary-

  1. Do not embarrass yourself with bad grammar. Good grammar matters. Forget what the idiota who failed English tells you about language being a versatile slut that can be pimped with abandon.
  2. Edit your own work. Do not ask, “What is the work of an editor, then?” Editors will lick your boots if you submit clean copy.
  3. Take advice and criticism like a man. Do not scratch it with your nails like a woman.
  4. Buy an English dictionary at Bookpoint on Moi Avenue…or any other bookshop. But I highly recommend Bookpoint because it smells and looks as disorganised as a real bookshop should, ladders included. Dictionaries have words. A writer lives on words.
  5. Talk to your demons. They have good story ideas.

About the Author: Akhatenje is crazy (in a good way). There are bad bloggers, bloggers, good bloggers, poor writers, writers, great writers and akhatenje. I am not even worthy to pick the lid of her pen if it falls. Very few are in her league and if you doubt me, look at some of her work here. While you are at it, you may want to look at spikey 58 poetry contest here and here.

Spikey 58 Poetry Contest


Dear poets,

The first Bullet Pen poetry contest is here. This is in conjunction with and in pleasant memory of The Princess Project Kenya and in honour of the benefits of collaborative writing which include our good friend Stephen Derwent Partington who donated copies of his book to The Princess Project Kenya.

Peace!

Peace!

Peace!

Three times peace!

Peace is the theme of this Spikey 58!

Submission Rules

  • Poems, only, should be submitted to this contest.
  • All poems should carry the theme, peace.
  • Each poet submits one poem.
  • Language: English. If a poem is written in another language, it should be accompanied with an English translation.
  • Font type: Book Antiqua
  • Font size: 12
  • Do not justify your poem.
  • Email your submission to bulletpen@lesleighinc.com as a Microsoft Word 97-2003 attachment.

Deadline for submissions is 23rd November 2012.

The judges of the contest are Stephen Derwent Partington, poet, poetry editor and author of How to Euthanise a Cactus, and Kevin Orato a poet who reads too much poetry for his own good and has developed a commendable aversion to performance poetry.

 

PRIZES: The best five poems by the best five poets will each win a copy of How to Euthanise a Cactus by Stephen Derwent Partington.

 

The shortlist will be published on this website on 30th November 2012 and the winners will be announced on 7th December 2012.

FIERY RED WARNING: Friends, nuclear family members, boyfriends and/or girlfriends, children, cats, dogs, fishes, cows and robots of Lesleigh Inc staff should not participate in the Spikey 58 contest.

 

CONTEST IS OPEN ONLY TO POETS RESIDING IN  KENYA.

(c) Lesleigh Inc

Strawberry Smoothie


By Gatuiri

Greatrnk tells me that I can write a guest post and I get confused, reason being I blog about food. I’m not sure if his readers are interested in food but hey we all eat so it wouldn’t be that bad. Now the next issue was trying to get a recipe that would be appropriate. I settled on making a smoothie, nothing beats this when it comes to healthy and quick breakfast fixes.

You spend more time washing and hulling (removing the green leaves and the top off the strawberries) than making the actual smoothie.

Ingredients:

8-10 medium sized strawberries, hulled and halved

1/2 cup milk

1 cup yogurt, I used vanilla

1 scoop vanilla ice cream

The ingredients

Basically, this is a two step recipe;

Pour all the ingredients in the blender.

strawberries and milk

then I added the yogurt and the ice cream

Blend for about 3 minutes and voila, breakfast!!

Serve chilled.

I topped mine with some vanilla ice cream.

smoothie 🙂

The beauty of this recipe is that you can alter it to suit your tastes buds. You can added chunks of two very ripe bananas and reduce the number of strawberries  to make a banana smoothie.

About the author: Gatuiri aka leotunapika is a newly wed who loves cooking, photography and making cards.

Underwear Talk


By beenduta

I am in a matatu, seated between two young girls, who are talking to each other. I might as well have been a chair or (personal favourite) a ball of air. I wondered why one of them couldn’t move so that they could say whatever they wanted to comfortably, instead of shifting words to and fro, right in front of my face. Their weaves had a shine, made worse by the neon lights in the jav. They had very tiny tops (barely covering their derrieres) and these sheer stockings that would tear at the slightest touch. How they pulled off keeping them intact was beyond me, considering the appearance of the matatu, but I digress…

After singing along to every riddim playing on the stereo, the conversation kicked in.

You know, I need new underwear,” One (let’s call her Joy- she laughed a lot) says.

Me too. I no longer have going-out underwear,” replies Mariah (Pronounced Mrs. Cannon’s way)

She had me at going-out underwear. The urge to interrupt was profound: What do you mean by going-out underwear? And who is your mother?

Before you judge me, my mother taught me to always have clean and presentable underwear every day- whether you are in the house, or you are going to the market, or worse, when you are going to the hospital for an injection. No one knows what will happen along the way. To use her words ‘you may fall down right in front of your future father-in-law, with the hem of your skirt over your head.

So here I am in a jav, listening to two youngins (they looked nothing above 22) talking –no, shouting over the music- of going-out underwear. In my mind, I am rummaging through my underwear drawer: check, check and definitely check! Then I am reminded of one Crazy Nairobian’s Types of Underwear and I understand the ‘going-out’ underwear.

When I am back to reality, Joy is saying something about buying a number of thongs and cotton boxers. Mariah is busy nodding her head, swishing her perfumed weave over her bare shoulders. At this juncture, I have just about had it. And as if the universe hears me, a passenger some seats in front alights- see what wearing good underwear does to you, girls (insert diva snap) – I run and ‘grab’ that seat before someone else does.

As the matatu moves, and an old guy gets in; I look at the girls, look at him and I feel a sense of profound pity.

About the Author: Beenduta is a writer and a poet. You can find some of her work at Bee Illustrated

Chasing Cars


By Wendy

You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it!” ~ The Joker

Greatrnk told me I could write about anything! I could rant about the MPs and their greed but who wants to talk about that? Unrequited love is a universal experience – let’s talk about that.

Did you ever hear about how David and Victoria Beckham first met? She was watching a football game at a pub and noticed him on the pitch. He was watching the Spice Girls perform and she caught his attention, and then a common friend introduced them. That was in 1996. Fast forward, 16 years, four children and life on two continents later. Sigh.

I met a man over the internet. He was giving a commencement speech to the 2012 graduating class of his alma mater. Soon after, I found out about the website and the short-film franchise that he and his friends co-founded and run. And then I met all his other friends, and learned a little bit more about the work that they do. And I felt like I was part of the circle – yes, the new girl, who’s still struggling to keep everyone’s names straight, but nonetheless included. You know, the usual dating sequence.

Then I learned something that should have been obvious from the get-go — I was not the only one going gaga over him. You don’t get to doing awesome things without creating a following – of several million! Somewhere someplace, there’s a 14 year-old girl, or twenty, with several posters of him on her wall. I can see the little pink hearts all over the damn thing. It makes me sick – in a way-to-mess-my-fantasy kind of way. Reality bites. I don’t like it.

In light of this realisation, I’ve started questioning myself and my achievements. He has been out of school for six years. Yes, he may be trying to figure out the future, but it’s a different kind of figuring out. He has six years of watching an experiment flourish. He’s very well-traveled. He’s smart. He’s cultured. Oh and he’s sorta kinda like a big deal (remember, a following of millions). I, on the other hand, just graduated. I’m working as an intern and not even in the industry I hope to be in! I get a modest survivable stipend, but definitely not that kind that allows for travel or cultural activities. I’m still trying to figure out the difference between a side hustle, a 9-5, a hobby and a career. Not to mention how indecisive I am about everything. Oh and I’m sorta kinda like a nobody.

In the beginning I’d used the Victoria/Beckham example to console myself. “You know, all I need is to put my work out there and he’ll find it, fall in love with me, and just like David and Victoria we’ll walk into the sunset. (Yes, if only life was that easily engineered.) And then, even if that happened, what would I do with him? Like I said, he’s brilliant; I’m still discovering my brilliance. He’s established; I’m as established as a dandelion that landed on a fast-flowing river. Really, what would I bring to this relationship?!

Now I have to break up with someone who doesn’t even know I exist because he’s just too good for me. Maybe in some 6 years, I’ll have a better grasp of my life. Maybe then we’ll be perfect together. Right? Argh, bad-fudging-timing!

About the Author: Wendy aka Karendi_ is an otherwise focused young person, she promises. But her mother warned her about the one man who’d cause her to do things that she’d be ashamed of. Maybe this is the one.