A flashback in one if not the funniest childhood of a Northern Kid. A masterpiece of courage mixed with stupidity, growing up of a Northern Child.

1. A NORTHERN LIFE IN
A passion for storytelling reflected in my childhood
POEMS
Vilho Royal Kanyiki
Written and created by

2. VILHO ROYAL KANYIKI
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
LIFE IN
POETRY

3. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
Those Northern rainy days
How you would have seen our faces during those rainy
days. The way we sort for the nearest hilltop screaming
as we go, shouting as we arrived. This time so loud
the echoes brace back into our ears, a possessive
resonation.
Then we will retire the resonates and race toward the
jumping todds. If only one could sense the frightening
look into those todd’s eyes. As we tame them into
workhorses then into ploughing oxens, then we let them
escape only to hunt them down with astonishing awe.
And the next stop was the water plains. Heart pounding
through socked hoodies.
How our mothers looked on with sickened worry
Tempered by what we might do next;
Swim into ponds or slide into muddy roads.
Either way we returned as ghosts covered into sand
and shivering between sneezes.
Oh how we loved those early days of the rain season.
How we were always transformed into some glorious
idiots, living life on the edge and finding happiness into
the face of danger.
How we loved those days, those Northern rainy days.
1

4. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
2 Birds and Acacias
Birds was gold, birds was diseased
We did not choose
Followed them into swamps and between sharp thorns
Birds was not enough meat but birds was gold.
Silence, a swiissh then a hit, feathers of colours lit the
sky. Blue, yellow, green, all floating the air
But birds fall to their death
Many we gave away, few we brought home
Little we ate.
Birds was not meat
Birds was diseased too
But birds was gold
Those tombs were not dark, there was light in the night
They were not empty, they had snakes of all kind
Those tombs were cool, they were an oasis in heat
I had my tombs, they were mine to rest. Then I will roll
If it was too hot a day
Those tombs were harmless but they screamed, they
were not boring either, they visited our house.
But those tombs were full of my backflips.
3 Those tombs behind our house

5. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
4 That you caught, is not frog
Those lightining were not good
The thunders always caught us off-guard
They send us straight to sleep, froze us to bed.
Oh the door is wide open, wind swipes in
For goodness someone please close the door.
Early mornings my brothers wakes
That rain was heavy he says, that rain will wake them up
They will sing today for sure, dad has bought the chilli
We might as well get whisky.
Dawn is breaking fast, the pandemonium starts
Louder they sing, they are enough for everyone
Screaming we raced toward the swamps
Jubilated we crushed into the water.
I see them, I see them all
If it dives, its giving you its back
Go in and retreat your catch, you deserve it.
Bigger and smaller we harvested. Numbering in tens, the
harvest is plenty. Proudly we hunted, aimed with the rush, the
rush of a steaming chilli sauce. But we have caught them all,
Except one. She sings beautifully into high waters, an exotic.
Who will catch the princess, we rushed onto her
She dived and she waits
I sinked in, ready to treat the pride of my virtuoso
Oh boy! that which you hold is not frog.

6. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
5 Crossing the Gravel D3608 Road
Who is lost into the dust?
And who that is no longer into the dust. But crossed on the
other side. Even when the was sound of hit.
That speeding car has hit a life.
It was not us, it was the goat that stood not far from us.
That goat was not stupid either, it was caught in the dust.
We just loved the dust and the chance it gave us,
The chance to run the danger, 5 seconds the speedy cars
were always late. We have crossed already. There will not be
moaning, but blood there was. Oh! the poor dog was caught
this time.
Look left, look right if you dare, we owned the D3608 road.
Blind we crossed, coughing we sneeze through. This time for
gigs because a hauling truck has vibrate past.
It left a huge dust to consume, a 5 second of blindness.
That dust is not going to waste, it was ours, the road for the
cars.
Did you felt it? That car which passed between us? It spinned
me to the banks, throwed rocks into my hair.
2 seconds this time, that car was late again.
2 seconds and there will be moaning, but not today.
Then we saw trucks rolling in, black tur they carried. Then the
dust faded, and away it goes. Those turred roads stole from
us, our 5 seconds of dust to death.

7. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
6 Goats, lambs and Horns
Careful now, you don’t want to touch that lamb
Too late Boy, the mother is charging
Fligthing we sort for the gate
Lamb in the sky we recalled.
That door is small, then I heard a sudden hit
A bang on a lower leg, I saw him in the sky
Goat underneath him, we are all laughing.
How we loved those days,
Those breeding days in the north.
7 A Northern Christmas Eve
We wish you Merry - don’t forget to buy the Jam
And where is the tea?
It starts on the 17th hour as we sort for the trees
Looking for that branch which is most holy
I climbed, then my brother too
But the panga is on the ground
Who is going down, we laughed.
Jubilated is who eats the jammed-bread.
Dad points to the goat, Wana crawl his leg
That goat is to be slaughtered. Blood! Blood!
It flows into the pan, salt we sort for, Iron we must eat
Those Christmas eves, those Northern days are gone.

8. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
8 Those lakes across the Road
Those lakes were not old, they were our peers
They were 20metre deep and we were 8 years
Jump so I jump, my brother in front. We are freestyling.
Between the deep water and top we sort for passage
The water was muddy but beautiful
Splash the water goes when a rock under foot slids.
Who is going to fall first, we joked.
Who will float dead at 8 years we meant.
Not us, those lakes are our peers. They will not dare.
That narrow path we are on has no return, you jump forward
Hoping to submerge to the next edge. On those edges the dust
finds you, the dust of cars speeding onto the dusty D3608
road. It fill your eyes and you jump in the blind.
But we are not to fall, for those lakes can’t kill us.
From the passage of death to the log of drowning.
That log that float is boat, another pass over the lakes.
Log floats, we wait for her to retreat.
And we rode her, laughing between the chills
Log is riding into deep water, we sit still
Then I make a sudden move. Crushing we arrived
But we hold on to log, on threads we trust our lives
She floats we lived.
Those lakes were our peers, they couldn’t kill us.

9. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
9 Come on man, give us a Break
Look at us, Boys! neck stiff belly up
Naked on the shore of our new pond
The rain has given us this pond
We dipped, dived, crushed and laughed
Like emperors we rule over the summer heat
Like Pharaohs we shore the little Nile before us.
That pond we swim is not ancient
It is eroded here by the rain last weekend
It is an oasis out of nowhere.
But that tree behind us is not ancient either
It is a man, holding and lurking behind it
A weep he holds with great allure.
I saw him but deep into high water
I scream once, emperors look behind!
But they heard not my voice, rather the stride of a man
A man cold and bitter, a foe man.
Oh! How they left me in the water those lads
Rushing for the velds and disappearing into steppes
But I have broke free too. He did not see me, the foe man.
I am racing fast, toward the North of his South
How he never gave us a break!
Said the water can kill, come on man, give us a break
Water is gift, a vine from our heavenly King.

10. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
10 The Great Northern harvest
Look at it, it is gold, it is part silver
It is changing colours in the sun: the new Mahangu
It head falls freely in the bright sky
A knife in my hand, a bucket a’back
Slash goes my knife - gravity goes the Mahangu
That falling head is heavy, it is sacred. it is possessive.
Bucket after buckets I poured
The harvest is plenty, tonnes I am assured
But I want to switch fields, my brother jests over another field
Melons, nuts, sorghums, sugar canes, all awaits over there
Yet Mother forbids, ‘You were not here yesterday’ she says
Finish the Mahangu first
That is your priority young man.
So I sought and slashed
Lifted and poured
I am eyeing a Mahangu on my left
But deeply lurking onto the melon on my right
The sugarcane is not far either
But her eyes were on me.
This is a rich field, a rich Northern field
How we loved those harvesting days
But those days, those days are gone.

11. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
11 The BackFlip crash
I gave it a distance, I want to charge from afar
I’m going for it: the longest, the highest backflip
I have been challenged, my brother was cheered for
It is my time to shine, I am the best of all
But I am desperate, I am overwhelmed
I want the glory for me.
Then I charge but I am aimless
I am not focused, I am thinking of glory
Faster I went, quicker I arrived
I see them, my friends beneath the ditch
Their eyes on me, Yes! I want that, focus on me
I approach the edge, I am not thinking
Then I mistimed my steps, I am too late
‘This is a backflip crash’ I heard someone think
I felt my feet dig into the soft shoulder
but my body reaps forward, I should be bending in
My neck bends, my arms folds but my back is stiff
I am without a flip, without a thought, I’m too late
Butt first then my whole weight into the sand
Tongue between my teeth, chin in my chest
It is painful, but I am okay
Because it is just another backflip crash
Another of many in those Northern days

12. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
12 Rodeo on a’back a goat
‘Now hold him still, he is a wild one’ said my brother
The kraal is thick, its wall is of thorned palm arms
No one dares rub their back around it.
Not even the goats that sleeps in it
But my brother is about to.
He is rodeo onto a goat, a frightened goat.
Let it go! he shouted. I did and sought for the gate
He is in the air, heading into the deep flock, dust raids
I see him once, I saw him no more, deep he has riden
Kaack! I heard the sound of rubbing, I could not see nor tell.
But I smell flesh blood of man, an injured man
Stuck was him into the kraal wall, skin pierced by thorns
It is not over, the goat is charging for the man hanging
Bang! then another, horns into the stomach
Now into a bleeding arm, the man is hurt enough
I saw him chase the goat with an agony cry
He is furious, no longer a rodeo but a vicious beast
A beast with blood running a’back, and a face of dust
His belly is with mark of a horned creature, a brutal scene
When I got closer, I show the horror of rodeo
Thorns deep into the flesh, a swell of pounding horns
But he limbs on, heading home with pride
He conquered the wild goat, a northern goat.

13. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
13 You should feel some guilty
He kick me once, twice and I did not fling at all
When I arrived I was in the shade of this tree
Now I shimmer in the sun, in a hibernated sleep
Jelly shines on my mouth, my fingers dipped fresh
My stomach tells my story, a guilty story
I have eaten without remorse, a frightening endeavour
I surely gave him a scare, my father. He who found me
Unconscious in a hot sun, sleeping without dignity
And when I woke, I have no sense of being
But I remember
I remember walking up to a tree, a rippen tree
I was not hungry nor starved, I was envious.
How a tree has rippen a fold of fruits? My fruits.
I then crawled on every branch, lustfully consuming.
I should finish the fruits, I thought. It is only fair
Anyone would do the same, not so naive either
That is when I felt the disconnect in my state of mind
My eyes dropped drowsy, my stomach drowny.
I am atop an ancient tree, a dangerous endeavour
I lost sense of being, my grip so weak and sedate.
That is how I came down to sleep I suppose
Maybe I am guilty, my father said I should.
We ate and fallen in those Northern days

14. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
14 Those Powerstar Trucks
Do you remember those Powerstar dipper trucks?
When they rolled in not with tar first but gravel
Dust they raid in the sky, a common for us
Remember when we rode them?
In those backseat cabins, and reached the far side
The far side of our West.
Yeah, remember how those drivers loved Guavas?
And we had plenty a garden. So we trade for a ride.
Then we watched the potholes disappearing
A new road was made, then a new speed recorded
Remember those times? If you do, then you remember when
they rode away, all in their density, heading into the sunset.
Those were the good days right? The road, the dust, the ride.
The noise, and that smell of wet ground
Oh the power of diesel and hydraulic under pressure
Those Powerstars inspired us right?
Do you remember those Powerstars?

15. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
15 Thorn a’hole a foot
Look at us in our new pair of shoes, oh my goodness
Now look at us without the shoes, someone is in trouble
Where are the shoes I gave you? Mother asks
A stick in her hand she pokes the lower knees
Those shoes were just bought, a fortune they cost
But where can they be?
Perhaps at the rural water tap, or at the lakes
Maybe in the grass plains or between the muds
Shoes, if truth be told, is gold but slow on pace
A natural bare feet is a mighty accelerator
And we loved running in those Northern days
Running is what got us here, a thorn a’hole a foot
It is deeper then anticipated, I cry an agony pain
Suppose I was attempting some desperate jump.
I was ripping in the air when it happened
I sang ‘Up with the crows and birds of the sky’
But I didn’t checked my landing as usual, an acacia awaits
But I saw it in the air, a sharp thorn in a defensive sit.
Flesh of flesh it pierced forward, awkwardly my weight on it.
Now it is mother who is pulling it out, shoes she was talking.
Where are those shoes that I gave you?

16. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
16 That tree is ancient
I have grown up now, I hardly see you. I have been gone
Do you still know me? Yes I am alive and well
Perhaps I thought I would be coming back sonner
But times.
But times we should talk about.
Times when I crawled your every branch
And I will pee if I wanted to. Caved if I had a knife
Now we hardly see it each other, I a man now and
you, still a monument of seasons and times.
Times right, if only times. Perhaps it is my time to
move on, to find a new home, a new tree
Maybe next time you would see me I am to be a father
A husband, or maybe the year would have taken toll on me.
But I am thankful for you. A greater mother you fed me
Memories you have given me, seasons you shown me
Times right, if only times we should talk about.
My young brother talks about you, saying I must visit
I said I will, that was each year I was gone. I never did
I missed you lots, a guilty feeling in my heart
Please don’t forget me, when the times passes.

17. A Northern Life in poetry
OB
OLEBBY BROTHERS GROUP
16 The scary folkholes
Its well past 20h00, the dinner is late, as always
But we have ate, we are full, drowny and drowsy
Just the perfect time for the scares
Coal cracks, the fire has burnt out and sky is queit
The stars shines brighter without the moon
Silence as the flame woosh a spark
And thats when he started, my brother
‘imagine a creature lurking onto you in the shallows’
Then a giggle, we all bend our necks to secure our corners
Nothing but endless darkness. But the shiver runs down the
spine, chilling into the nerves
And someone continues
‘A story is told of a creature, with head’a cow, eyes of fire
and a body of a gran’ ma. No word nor sound was made
Breaking the silence someone continues
‘It is said that the creature feeds on the muscus of children,
by attacking them and sucking out from their nose.
I imagined the endeavor and saw a big mouth swallowing
my face, and sunctions from from within penetrating my nose
And my arms were parall..
Boom! Someone was plotting a scare from behind. I jumped
and we all laughed. But its time to go sleep, says mother