Tonight the vinyl won’t play, the homeless won’t lay
Clouds may turn grey and our pet Osogo won’t sing
Cuz we’ll be gone by nightfall, the child will be coming, she’ll say I’m ready to see that new mall Dad
And when she grows out of her cot, she’ll ask, daddy isn’t a mall the same as a shopping center?
I’ll be no driver of no canter or trailer or Range or Benz or even own no sling and carry stones to Raila rallies
Or walk to gor mahia games with other goons,
I will be no Aeschylus no Aristotle no Adams (not Jane, not James not Quincy)
and I will not claim I know superman.
Lest Maya says, daddy, today’s Tinkerbell’s birthday,
Will you talk to your friend super to talk to his friends powerpuff girls, to talk to their friend, son of batman, to talk to his father batman to forcefully include my name in the guest list?
I’ll be struck with awe at her way with words,
I’ll try to prove that she gets her wits from me,
she bangs the table to say,
You won’t have to go that long route daddy!
Just call your friend superman to call batman.
And I’ll know she has Kokwanyo (her mother’s village) in her.
I will grab her walkie talkie and dial a number that should be Mr Dru’s
Hey there it’s Omollo Sir, did you get the payment for kidnapping
OK. Great. I’ve got a new assignment… it’s about my daughter,
the one who appears on the mirror as princess Sofia’s advisor in the epic animation. Do you know her?
I want you and the minions to break that mirror and let her into Tinkerbell’s party, this weekend.
Do you copy?
Mr Dru will rub his long nose and ask, what’s the price?
I’ll say 6 pens, no 12 and an ostrich egg, no I can only get 7 pens Max and no eggs please; no 10 pens, installment a NO NO and the egg a must, black ostrich, but a Rhea’s a priority.
OK. Dru. But only if you send Maya
An OWLY minion eye
Deep fried for dinner afterwards,
She will yaaay! And run around the coffee table thrilled at her own little achievement,
I will follow her and say, by the way Al Nasr in Eastleigh is a shopping center as is baba dogo and Okonyowelo.
She will stop and try to internalize the statement.
I’d once mentioned that Nasr was a mall,
She couldn’t speak then
so I assumed she’d forget as soon as she ran out of baby formulae,
Like she did with her famous line
I love you,
Do you remember that?
she must have been drunk.
Before she figures out the pun and makes a fuss out of it, I should be gone. Gone back to the day she was born.
When it will rain and my wife, Joan, will cling to my shoulder.
Her stomach cyst with pain,the tuk tuk as slow as sloth,
when we get to the hospital, her nyamrerwa, Mora’s voice will be low and clear
she has only dilated a centimeter.
You have 9 more hours to go
Stroke her back and hair and and and neck and walk with her to the isle
The drenching isle? Jesus!
It should quicken the process
But stoke the neck did she say? Isn’t that the same as necking? Is there such a word though,
I do don’t know.
But if it helps why not?
Thunder will roar, lightning will strike
The breeze from the lake will be as cool as never been before
Hospital bulbs with flash on and off
and on again like in a scene from wrong turn
She will look at my eyes and let loose warm water between her thighs
I’ll shout and she will
Stand at the foyer backed by stairs, arms folded and smiling and say Joan ana mchezo
And I’ll be like, but the water just broke woman, and she’ll correct me,
she peed, stupid Man!
The agony of delivery
A smile will drape through her face like she’s not the subject of exchange.
We will hold hands and talk about nothing
Twined in a sci fi world, the world before we conceived,
The world before she knew that my grandfather was the owner of donkeys
Before she knew that my family and wealth have been as far apart as St. Peters is from hell
We’ll go back to when we shared in the theory of love at first sight,
When we fought over things as tiny as listening to the sundowner against watching crime movies,
When we made love to the site of snooping walls and the eavesdropping ceiling, the velvet pillows and the silk curtains
And we Made Maya and she made us
Tonight she is coming and she comes with the heavy rains of doyo.
My dad will work the soil tomorrow for successful Dec harvests
But tonight no heart should beat,
Sweat will run down our spines in rivulets
My wife will curse giving birth to more children,
all women do by the way but pleasure and pain go in hand
and they all forget that as soon as they should
When dawn comes she will push a 4.2 pounds heavy baby
Her tiny eyes will be cute like mine, I’ll know because I’ll hold her first
Her nose will be puffy and her skin will be soft with tiny bones
She will pretend to sleep or she will be sleeping
Is there a difference anyway?
Who knows what those tiny kids called “it” do by the way?
And when I proclaim myself, Diablo and say, “Welcome to hell boy!” her left eye will twitch
And I’ll know that she is a live. That our love lives.