Samson Ohmundu Uhmundu . poem on HIV/AIDS by Ojijo

Ojijo, performing his poetry piece, "Ohmundu Uhmundu-On HIV/AIDS, at Uganda National Museum, June, 3Rd , 2012) from his poetry book, FirePlace Stories: Ojijo's Performance Poems & Quotes.

 

1.      samson ohmundu uhmundu!

 

story time! story time! story time!

 

tell us, tell us the story!

 

story time! story time! story time!

 

teller, tell us the story!

 

along long long time ago...a very long time ago (of course not longer than your trousers)

 

along time ago,

in the lands far beyond sight,

across the plains,

up the hills,

and down the valleys,

 

along time ago,

in the land of chicken,

in the land of maize,

in the land of big biceps and bigger triceps,

there lived a man,

 

there lived a man called samson ohmundu uhmundu alias omosafisafi,

samson ohmundu uhmundu was a man writer,

ohh yes! he loved to write,

he could write and write and write,

and every time he wrote he would sing,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

and then,

he would sing again

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

and he could write in all books,

he was talented, samson

he could write in any open book,

he could even write in half open books,

and even the closed books, he would write on them,

samson,

 

and all the time,

he would sing,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

 

and so it came to pass,

as days follow night,

and as pleasure follows sorrow,

 

 

that in his village, the young virulent men would go to the farm and to the hunt,

but their vixens and sexists would remain to take care of the home,

leaving only the naked children, running with bow legs and potbellied stomachs at home,

 

leaving only the old geezers,

and even older geezers,

 

 

and when they came back home.

they would find their books written on,

and they would ask,

 

who wrote on our books?

on our books, who wrote on?

who on our books wrote?

books? ours? wrote who?

 

and samson ohmundu, uhmundu alias omosafisafi would sing,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

and after many writings and many books being written on,

both open books and closed books,

both his books and others books,

the vilalgers sent him away,

samson was sent away,

to a far off town,

to boma, kapango,

the place of renting houses,

 

and when he was in the nyamburko, the vehicle,

he would gaze through the widnows,

and he would see books,

books,

 

samson would see books on the road side,

books half open,

closed books,

books on bicycles,

books seated, books walking,

books books books,

books everywhere,

 

and he could bite his lips

and lick his lips,

and whistle in dismay,

 

and he would hum in his voice,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

and so with the thirst and hunger of writing,

and the memories and imaginations of his journey,

and with the appetite and greed of his nature,

and with the desire and race for his end,

 

when he reached his destination,

he asked for the main library

 

and when he got there,

when he got there,

the library,

the main library,

 

 

all that was heard was,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

and again,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

and yet again,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

 

then,

there were no more books,

then,

he had written in all the books,

 

and so,

since he could also write on the covers,

he decided to do something he has never done before,

and then,

 

ndikore manade ndikore manade yawa jowa,

ndikore manade ndikore manade ndikore manade yawayawa,

 

and then,

 

silence,

 

and then,

 

silence,

 

and then,

 

wololomama, wololomama,

wololomama, wololomama,

wololomama, wololomama,

 

aiiiiyaaaaaa!!!!

aiyaaiyaaiyayayayaya!!!

 

noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

 

samson ohmundu uhmundu alias omosafisafi!

 

the pen,

could not write anymore,

 

and so he shook it,

up and down.

 

and then he shook it,

sideways by sideways.

 

 

and then,

he shook it,

this was and that way.

 

but lo and behold,

the pen stopped writing,

 

and he refused,

he went on,

and on,

and on,

 

and when he went to the doctor,

he shook it the more,

 

and then,

miraculously,

slowly,

it started writing,

it was writing,

but in red!

 

 

do not trust them! poem by Ojijo

(extracted from Fireplace Stories: Ojijo's Performance Poems. Poem .2012. ISBN.978-9966-123-17-6)

1.      do not trust them!

do not trust them, i warn you,

when they say you win, then know, you have lost,

when they say come in, know they want you to leave,

when they say welcome, they mean, where the hell are you going,

do not trust them,

do not dare trust them,

when they say “you are safe with us”, they have “got you”,

when they say “watch out”, they have already stabbed you,

when they say “it is your turn”, they have set you up,

do not trust them

do not trust them,

when they say eat with us, they have poisoned the food,

when they say, ride with us, there will be an accident,

when they say walk with us, you will slip and fall,

do not trust them,

do not trust them,

when they say we love you, they hate you,

when they say we hate you, they have always hated you,

when they call you, they want to exploit you,

do not trust them,

do not trust them,

their prayers are human sacrifices,

their blessings are curses,

helping them is digging your own grave,

lifting them will be your ultimate downfall,

do not trust them,

do not trust them,

they have glass eyes,

they have cold hearts,

and they have no blood,

they will eat your flesh, human flesh,

they will drink your blood, human blood,

do not trust them,

do not trust them,

do not trust any of them,

none of them should you trust,

all of them are not to be trusted,

do not trust them.

 (Ojijo is an ICT lawyer, author of 29 books, performance poet, armature pianist, luo culture expert, business feasibility study and financial projections consultant, public speaker and coach: ojijo@allpublicspeakers.com, +256776100059)

where were you? (Tribute to Lupita Nyongo, Oscar Award Winner) by Ojijo Ogillo

(extracted from Fireplace Stories: Ojijo's Performance Poems. Poem .2012. ISBN.978-9966-123-17-6)

 

1.      where were you?

 

you woman, sitting there, begging for emancipation,

you mother, standing there, petitioning for freedoms,
you girl, kneeling there, pleading for affirmative action,
you wife, sleeping there, crying for release,
where were you?

 

where were you when boudica fought the roman emperors in 60 ad, a woman of peansat birth,

where we you when rosa parks refused to walk to the back of that bus, a common woman,
where were you when kinjekitile mwenda led the men to revolt against british rule in kenyan coast, an illiterate woman,
where were you?

 

when mother teresa went to help the poor, were you washing your baby?

when benazir bbuto ran for office in pakistan, were you cooking tea?
when camila valejo was leading student protests in chile, were you reading for examinations?
when indira gadhi was the first woman prime minister in the whole world, were you painting your nails,
where were you?

 

why do you want to be helped, when joan of arc helped the french to defea the british,

why do you beg for assistance, when golda meir offered assistance to israel,
why do you cry for handouts, when mavia handed land and produce to her people in 400 bc,
why do you plead for gifts, when isabella of spain gifted africa to men twice her size,

when we think of zenobia threatening king cyrus, we wonder, where are you?
when we remember margaret thatcher ruling britain for ten years, we wonder, where are you?
when we watch wu zetian lead china s first female emeror in 614 ad, we ask, where are you?
when we remember the trung sisters leading vietnam, we shudder, where are you?

 

like cleopatra, using her charms and intellect to deliver egypt, let us not ask, stand up,

like tomyris, leading her tribe to victory, let us not fear, he strong,
like nzimga mbadde, queen of the matamba, let your men weat skirts, be brave,
like augn san su kyi of the mongols, do not despair, keep fighting,
like eleanor of acquitane, lead your men and prosper, do not falter,
let them not ask, where were you?

 

wake up and run after angela merkel, she leads europe, she was there,

quit begging to copy oprah winfrey, she stood up, she was there,

end pleading and follow dr. zuma, she leads africa, she was there,
stop crying and applaud lupita nyong’o, she knows everyone has a dream, she was there,
where were you?

 (Ojijo is an ICT lawyer, author of 31 books, performance poet, armature pianist, luo culture expert, business feasibility study and financial projections consultant, public speaker and coach:+256776100059)

human dogs! (Poem number 62 by Ojijo)

(extracted from Fireplace Stories: Ojijo's Performance Poems. Poem .2012. ISBN.978-9966-123-17-6)

62.      human dogs!

 

i swore as i wore my clothes today,

to tell the best story ever,

 

to this great audience of sorts

but i cannot perform my piece,

 

because i want to invite a friend of mine,

to tell us what happened;

 

please come up and talk to us,

tell us what happened my friend,

 

please tell us what happened,

remind us  of how they approached,

 

we know the  signboard made you to expect a beast,

and it made you to watch out for a human dog,

 

you saw neither of those,

not any of the two did you see?

 

tell us how they approached you,

the two men, smartly dressed,

 

did they make you anxious or fidgety?

did they make you loose guard and feel gay?

 

tell us the story,

say it again and again and again,

 

we want to know how they asked for the direction,

to a place in your direction,

 

did they smile so innocent?

did they behave so gently?

 

tell us of the beautiful stories,

of the small talk,

 

tell us of their hurry to get to their destination,

the hurry that disarmed your guard,

 

retell us again of their gay laughter,

as you shared how your day was,

 

oh how natural they were,

tell us how normal, how natural they looked,

 

tell us of their flattery and generous comments,

the looks and lusts, the sighs and clicks

 

tell us of your “oh really, thank you so much”

tell us of your, “oh, you are full of nice words”

 

tell us of the darkness that brought you together,

unity in the face of the enemy,

 

tell us of the immediate change in tone,

say it again, the husky voices,

 

tell us of the rough hands tearing your clothes,

of the cold hands on your warm body,

 

tell us of the fright and fear you felt,

as they pushed you tot eh corridors,

 

tell us of your distress, your misery

what betrayal you felt, oh how you groaned,

 

tell us of the threats as you repulsed their attempts,

tell us of the nausea as they pressed against your person,

 

tell us of their repeated slaps

say again how violently they shook your limp body,

 

tell us my daughter,

tell us how they forcefully penetrated your youth, your pride,

 

tel us how you lost your self-esteem

your poise and your pride

 

say it again and again without shame,

how they penetrated you with vigor

tell us how they sweated and grunted like pigs,

how they were at it again and again and again,

 

tell us of their foul smell on your mouth

say how they suffocated your dignity,

 

tell us how you broke to run but your feet could not move,

how they caught up with you,

kicked you to the ground,

pinned you to the ground,

and had turns at you, shifting and changing,

tell us how you tried to cry,

but all your strength was drained,

tell us of the abuses they threw at you,

the insults they poured on you

tell us if the saliva spat on you, as you lay helpless,

tell us of the final kick that made you lifeless,

 

then tell us of the long wait by the wayside,

of the passersby glancing with suspicion,

tell us of the biting cold and dusty ground,

tell us of the mosquitoes and the hard ground,

 

now tell us of the policemen, who found you,

tell us of how they came strolling,

tell us of their mischievous glances,

their embarrassing questions,

tell us of your tears at their lack of understanding

tell us of your hurting at their lack of feelings

then tell me of the slow and endless ride to the hospital,

as they told you to thank your god and stars,

that you did not die

tell us of how you struggled to block their careless talk,

how you struggled to block the pain in the inside of you,

tell us of your friends and relatives,

tell us how they were choked and shocked

tell us of their dismay and unbelief

their ridicule and gossips

that cut deeper into the wound not yet healed,

their talk that was like salt into the injury

tell us of how you felt like committing suicide,

how you planned and schemed,

tell us how difficult it was for you,

tell us how difficult it has been for you

then tell us of the happiness that you have today,

that we have come to condemn this disgraceful act

 

 

 (Ojijo is an ICT lawyer, author of 31 books, performance poet, armature pianist, luo culture expert, business feasibility study and financial projections consultant, public speaker and coach:+256776100059: ojijo@allpublicspakers.com)

i belong to another!. Poem by Ojijo Ogillo

(extracted from Fireplace Stories: Ojijo's Performance Poems. Poem .2012. ISBN.978-9966-123-17-6)

   i belong to another!

you and your constant company,
you and your endless interest,
always in my vicinity,
never far from my person,
don’t you know i belong to another?

 

 you wink and blink at me,

 talking to me with your evil eyes,

 calling me with your battling eyelids,

 but i belong to another,

 you call me and wave at me,
 attracting my attention,
 drawing my seek,
 but i belong to another,

 

 you wear fashion and class,

 swinging and swaggering,

 working to impress me,

 laboring to make an impression,

 but i am taken,

 

you seek to dumbfound with academia,

you talk oxford and harvard,

chanting theories and ranting philosophies,

reciting shakespeare and narrating aristotle,
but i belong to another,

 

stop nagging and look elsewhere,

my heart is not for you,

nor my future for your schemes,

we can only be friends this way,

and strangers that way,

because i belong to him,

 

do not confuse me with sweet nothing

your deep voice and manly cologne

your quick hands and strong arms,

they touch me but they will not hold me,

they feel me but will not grab me,

because i am his!

 

you turn and twist,

as you lay in your bed,

dreaming in your thoughts,

 imagining in your mind,

but i will never be yours,

 

do not lust in your looks,

or scare with your stare,

your eyes will only see, but never behold,

they will forever look and forever imagine,

because my body is his!

 

i belong to him.

to him i belong,

he has chosen me,

i am his,

he is mine,

i am taken,

 (Ojijo is a lawyer, author, poet, pianist, luo culture expert, business systems consultant, career mentor, public speaker and coach:+256776100059: ojijo@allpublicspakers.com)

my women have ganged against me! poem by Ojijo Ogillo

(extracted from Fireplace Stories: Ojijo's Performance Poems. Poem .2012. ISBN.978-9966-123-17-6)

1.     my women have ganged against me!

 

(this poem, when in plural, e.g. ‘our women’, can be performed as a choral verse piece)

 

my women,

these females I once seduced,

they have ganged against me,

one says the yam was immature, and so, there is no food,

another says there was too much salt, and so, I will not eat,

a third says the child kicked the bowl, and so, I will starve,

and the first one says the firewood was wet with too much smoke, and so, I sleep hungry tonite,

my women, they have ganged against me,

 

my women have ganged against me,

these damsels I paid dowry for,

they are standing on the door, I cannot enter,

they are standing by the table, I cannot eat,

they are standing all over me, I cannot think,

they are standing by the bed, I cannot sleep,

my women, they have ganged against me

 

my women have ganged against me,

these people are scheming against me,

they see me and group together,

they look at me and shake their heads, sorrowfully,

they point at my house and nod their heads, pitifully,

they stare at me and roll their eyes, twitching their lips,

my women have ganged up against me,

 

my women have ganged against me,

these girls I brought into my home,

they laugh to make me cry,

they they speak to shut me up,

they cook to starve me,

they sleep to keep me awake,

my women have ganged against me,

 

my women have ganged against me,

these people are nolonger my friends,

when my competitors scheme against me,

they serve them chamomile tea,

when my enemies ridicule me,

they tell the jokes,

when my detractors backstab me,

they hand them the knives,

and when I win,

they sympathise with the losers,

my women have ganged against me,

 

my women have ganged against me,

these people I know not anymore,

they stand arms akimbo, in the waist, radicalized,

they put their legs apart, astride, ready for war,

they lift their chins, raised, defiant,

they bite their lower lips, hard, intimidating me,

they stare at my eyes, not blinking, scaring me,

my women, they have ganged against me.

 

 (Ojijo is an ICT lawyer, author of 31 books, performance poet, armature pianist, luo culture expert, business feasibility study and financial projections consultant, public speaker and coach:+256776100059)

i am a man because my mother says so! by Ojijo Ogillo

(extracted from Fireplace Stories: Ojijo's Performance Poems. Poem .2012. ISBN.978-9966-123-17-6)

 

 

do not look at me,

do not analyse me,
do not measure me,
do not compare me,
as if i am not a man,
because i am a man,

 

i am not a man because i show you respect,

talking to you while standing up,
shaking your hand with my two hands,
saying ‘yes please’ and ‘yes thank you’
i am a man because my mother says so!

 

i am not a man because i have two cars,
two homes,
two wives,
and two children,
I am a man because i take care of my mother,

 

i am not a man because i am mature,
adult,
experienced,
and old,
i am a man because my mother say so,

 

do not measure my manhood with stripes and stars,
do not measure my manhood with drivers and secretaries,
do not emasure my manhood with guards and guns,
do not measure my manhood with degrees and doctorates,
i am a man because i protect my mother

 

i am not a man because you bow and kneel for me,

i am not a man because you salute and parade for me,
i am not a man because you clap and applaud me,
i am a man because my mother say so,

 

i am a man whether you like me, or spite me,
i am a man whether you hate me, or love me,
i am a man whether you curse me or bless me,
i am a man whether you hire me, or fire me,
i am a man whether you marry me, or reject me,
i am a man because my mother say so!

 

i am a man because of my mother,
i am a man for my mother,
i am a man in my mothers eyes,
i am a man because my mother says so.

 (Ojijo is a lawyer, author, poet, pianist, luo culture expert, business systems consultant, career mentor, public speaker and coach:+256776100059: ojijo@allpublicspakers.com)