Felix: Sheng is a slang language that originated in the '50's in Nairobi' s Eastland suburbs/ghettos as a way for the young people to communicate amongst themselves without the older generation getting in on their discussions. The language which borrows words from English kiswahili and other ethinic languages in the country grew in prominence in the 90's through the local hip hop scene of the likes of Kalamashaka- a hip hop group - and is now mostly used by many youths in their daily communication instead of English and Kiswahili.

In My Country Girls Disappear 

Chibok

Kabila ya madenge yenye 

Ililoba wakati gova 

Ilikua inachea monopoly na magaidi        wenye 

Waliwasanya 

Wengine wao walirudi bure            wengine 

Wakagenya na uzito

Wangine bado wako kwa iyo ngori        na 

Wengine hawakuwai rudi 

Uwa

Mi uomba mercy kila time naandika poetry juu 

Hapa 

Sir-godi anaweza geuzwa vumbi 

Niaje mdenge anaweza omba ku 

Bakwa, kukat(i)wa, kupeanwa mbele ya 

Msalaba? 

Tina 

Stage yoyote  karibu na mtaa

Ni shooting range 

Hakuna mwenye alivuka baro in time 

Kumchapia eti kusimama ni catfish 

Wakati sanse ni synonym ya point alafu 

Angusha 

Jennifer

 Wakidaisha mdenge ameiva 

Kenye wanamaanisha ni -        je

Ako old enough kudishiwa?

Hapa, ni carnival kwa mtoi kunajisiwa 

Na mafadhelaa kadhaa

Girls 

Kwa zile kesi zaidi ya thao zinatendeka daily 

Wakiuliza victims timestamp, zabe gani

Na vile alikua amedunga 

Ni kaa izi vitendo vya kinyama 

Ni design flani ya sherehe

~ Translated to sheng by Felix Omondi

Art: © Opeyemi Matthew Olukotun (@opeyemiolukotun).

Chibok

A tribe of girls went

Missing while the government

Played monopoly with the terrorists that stole them

Some of them returned empty         some of them died burdened

Some are still in harm’s way           & others never returned

Uwa

I ask for mercy when I write poetry because here

God can turn to dust

How does a girl ask to be

Raped & mutilated, offered in front of a cross?

Tina

Any bus stop near home

Is shooting range

No one took the road in time

To tell her that standing is catfish

When the police is synonym for point and kill

Jennifer

When they say a girl is ripe

What they mean is  -                              is she old enough for us to devour?

Here, it is carnival for a child to be abused by multiple men

Girls

& for thousands of daily unfolding cases 

They ask victims for timestamps, locations & outfit styles

As though this inhumane invasion is some sort of feast

My thoughts:

Each language in my opinion gives a different kind of depth, it possesses its meaning & it has a distinct texture on the tongue. So it means so much to me that this poem I wrote about a very sad but significant event in my country Nigeria has taken meaning in another tongue, in another language - Sheng!

This means a lot to me and I hope more of my pieces get translated across the board!

Thank you, Felix!

Disclaimer: The poetry is not an attempt to explain the artwork. This will just be me writing whatever poetry came to me when I looked at the artwork.

Today we will be exploring the awesomeness that is Jamilla Okubo. I saw her Art on Pinterest and I was in absolute awe. Her art, in my opinion, is a raw and defined mix of Afro, colour and culture. Her painting calls you, mirrors your thoughts and leaves you wondering. It gives you a feel-good sense of adventure and wishes you into resonation. I want to say maybe it's just my eyes, but I know it's not. Jamilla is simply amazing.

Jamilla Okubo's Bio

Jamilla Okubo is a mixed-media and interdisciplinary artist exploring the intricacies of belonging to an American, Kenyan, and Trinidadian identity. Combining figurative painting, pattern/textile design, fashion, and storytelling, she celebrates the Black body in relation to movement, expression, ideology, and culture. Inspired by kanga cloth, which communicates messages derived from Swahili proverbs, quotes from the Qur’an, African folklore and popular culture, Okubo creates her own patterns in reference to the history, mythology, and vernacular of the African diaspora. 

A fusion of Jamilla Okubo's Artwork and my Poetry

Body lingua

I soak my loneliness in wetness 

And it is unable to dry,

 I knock my knees together 

To silence the lips in between my legs.

I pretend not to understand its language 

When our bodies scrape past each other in the lobby.

Last supper

Many hands to one bowl

That was my home,

Was how I knew that 

Boiling grain long enough 

Will let it swell into satisfaction.

Was how I knew eating meat was funeral,

Our mouths could not suck on marrows 

Or chew flesh

Unless God struck something dead

And left it decaying in the backyard.

Was how I knew my mother to be a starving woman 

Calculating & observing, 

Marinating the meal in her saliva 

Until my father swallowed his piece. 

This is us

Maybe we are a brainwashed generation

Maybe we have become too fizzy & unorthodox for regular reasoning

Maybe we are all the things they say we are

Crazy - rebel - doomed!

We have vomited status quo

Trampled conformity underfoot

Decided to live happy and free

On our own risky terms.

We have apologised to our parents

Forced them to bury their expectations

Because we would rather parent plants & cats

Than produce people who will inherit our problems

Maybe this is us

Wanting to relax and be taken care of

Wanting everything in the bag secure

Wanting the table, the seat and the whole room

If this is us

Is it really such a bad thing?

Let my body burn

I want the type 

Of love

that feels 

Like voodoo 

Something enchanting

that will make me fall 

Head over heels 

In touch with my emotions

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I want to be bent 

In positions 

that break my 

Bones into rainbows

Twist my nerves 

Into gummy bears 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I want the type of love 

that calls me home 

raises my moans 

Above pitches & 

Let's it go up like incense 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I want this love that 

Lights up my soul

With a match 

Of sensation 

And doesn't care if 

My body Burns 

In ecstasy

⠀⠀⠀

⠀

Did you know that Jamilla designed the book cover for An American Marriage  by Tayari Jones

What was your favourite poem/artwork from this post?

I am haunted by the cries of the dead

And the struggles of the living, 

CURSE OF THE ABC CHILD

My stare says i love you,

Her smile says i love you too.

Words weren't said

VACATION

I am like an adopted puppy secluded from the love of the mother and roof of the father.

MORE THAN BLACK AND WHITE

ABOUT THE POET

How did this poem make you feel?