Borrowed Love

Love is a special feeling that connects the soul of two individuals pulling them together in their lives. Love is sacred. It is a feeling which binds a mother to her child, a brother to a sister, a friend to another and a lover to his beloved. It holds the world and encourages compassion as well as generosity towards all mankind. Neither is it dependent on age, gender, location nor weight, race, religion or any other variable.

It is a powerful emotion that has captured the attention of writers, artists, philosophers, poets and singers. Many tales have been woven portraying the power of love. One such example is the play “Romeo and Juliet” by William Shakespeare where two souls deeply in love die to honor their love. One of the wonders of the world The Taj Mahal in India signifies the love Shah Jahan (Emperor) had for his wife (Mumtaz Mahal).

However in the recent times love has lost its original purity and sacredness. It is now easier to connect with people around the world with just a click. The media has made it easier to find new romantic interests and has a different tale on the various aspects of love each day. We now have lovers whose obsessions leads them to murder, spouses cheating on each other, or stalking and harassing individuals to attract attention. Inter cast or Inter racial marriages are on the rise. We have activists advocating for same sex marriages.In the midst of all these love has lost its permanency, its tranquility and its originality.

Love is now available cheaply and in any form you require. You can buy it for a night, a day or a number of days. You can get it at hotels, homes or even on the street. You can pay for it in shillings or dollars. What before was a secret enclosed behind closed doors is now a sight for everyone to enjoy. Children are exposed to this at a very early and vulnerable age. People get close to each other and soon part their ways.

One such phenomenon is what i decided to name “Borrowed Love,” It is that love which is temporarily borrowed and has to be returned once the moments of love are over.

As is my routine I was sitting on the bench outside my apartment waiting for the car to the office I overheard two women talking to each other. One young woman was sharing her opinion with regards to her love issue. A married man had approached her wanting to spend his life with her. Nothing was wrong with wanting this. However he was married and his wife lived far away in another country. He wanted to keep his affair with her a secret.

The girl continued “If i agree to live with him here one person or the other will know about our affair. They could easily object to our living together. The only way out is for me to demand a fully furnished house far away from his normal residence and he can come see me there. Alternatively I can move to another country with him. Since no one will be acquainted with us there we can carry out our affair secretly.”

Is love between a man and his wife so weak? Does distance really make one forget all the vows to care for their partner? What happened to sticking to one another in good and bad times, in health and in sickness, in riches and in poverty? Are these promises insignificant? Do they hold no value anymore?

This kind of love is just borrowed love. Sooner or later you will have to return it back to the person who rightfully deserves it. A man who has not been loyal to his wife, how can you expect loyalty from him? What about his children? What about the children you will have with him? Don’t children deserve a happy fulfilling life with both parents? Will he marry you and accept you in front of the whole world? Will your love be strong enough to hold on to in the long run?

Love has to treasured not discarded at the next moment available. It has to bring people together not drive them apart. Love has bring happiness not sorrow. Love has to accept not reject. Love has to be real not fake. It has to be eternal and ever lasting. It has to subsist through time and tide not be washed away like prints on the shore.

Love should never be borrowed like a commodity.

Dream within a dream

A Dream Within a Dream


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Why Does She Stay?

I am truly inspired by your article…..So many women experience violence at the hands of their partners in terms of verbal abuse, physical abuse as well as emotional abuse. Your article clearly portrays the emotions and pain a woman goes through.
A very touching article.

my life in words

More than once have i woken up to her cries in the morning! I lean through the window to hear what she is trying to say through her mumbled words a midst her tears,with my hands on the door knob, i fight the urge to open the door and run to her and give her a very big warm hug that will maybe/kinda/probably reassure her that all’s gonna be alright! But then, my hands feel frozen and can’t move.  My heart tells me to go out there and comfort her but my body is so weak with so many uncertainties.

A thousand questions race through my mind while standing there: will my hug be a welcoming sight to her? What if she thinks I’m intruding her privacy? Will she be willing to listen to the advice of this young girl who is not married, let alone have a boyfriend? A…

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My Inspiration

Every morning as I wait for the office car to pick me for work I sit on the bench just outside my apartment. I really look forward to this time of the day. I can quietly watch others rushing to earn their daily bread, cars coming and going, young men selling boiled maize, vitumbua or freshly brewed coffee.

I look around for any familiar faces I have come across from my daily observation. I try to figure out what each face is telling me. Like an artist I watch and listen to the voices around me hoping to catch the latest gossip around town. I like to observe people as they hustle and bustle in their daily lives and capture it in my mind. I like to write about what I observe and learn from the environment. I get most of my inspiration from this daily ritual.

One can learn a lot from observing what goes around them. You can know who is excited about their day. You can see who is sad, You can see how the wealthy move around in expensive cars while the poor have nothing to cover their body with, You can see how hurriedly the daylight envelopes the dark night into a canvass of bright flame. You can hear the creaking iron doors of nearby shops opening up.

Every sight and sound has something to say. You just need the patience and ability to decipher the puzzle you observe.

Live Your Life

One of the greatest lesson I have learnt in life is that nothing is permanent; Tomorrow is never promised. No one knows what will happen in the next minute.

You only have the present moment to live.

It is better to do whatever you want in life right now. Live your life to the fullest.

Eat that delicious meal at the expensive restaurant.

Wear that lovely dress you bought from the store.

Kiss your lover.

Let your parents know how much you love them and appreciate their guidance. support as well as caring nature.

Call your childhood friend.

Laugh to your heart’s desire.

Forgive those who have wronged you.

Your life is only promised of the current moment.

Live as much as you can while you can.




Art represents the hidden voice of the voiceless. This image portrays what a thousand words would be unable to describe.

The first thought that comes to my mind when i see children is how they all have innocence flowing on their face. Their tiny steps as they rush to hug their loved ones. No one can deny that they truly are a blessing from God.

While some are flourished with healthy food, toys, new clothes and a loving atmosphere others are forced into slavery and forced labor at an early age. Their innocent faces are covered by dust and dirt from heavy work. Their delicate hands covered with bruises. Their tiny feet with bleeding wounds. Their flesh devoid of any clothing or clad in rags.

While going about their daily life of darkness, hunger and pain the only solace is getting a glimpse of a normal childhood; something they are entitled to; something which is snatched from them.

“Get away”, “Get Lost”, “You Filthy brat” are words they hear everyday. When they do as much as touch a toy a privileged child has it is pulled away from them with beatings and insults.




Life From a drunkard’s point of view

I was sitting on the bench just outside my apartment when a sudden commotion interrupted the conversation I was having with my neighbor. I turned towards my left to see what all the noise was about. A man,hardly more than 25 years of age, was talking to his mates in a barely audible tone. It was obvious from his demeanor that he was drunk. As I moved a few inches closer to hear what he was saying I realized he was sad and pouring out his sorrows.

Everyone around the street gathered into a huge circle surrounding the man cracking jokes and teasing him. One person even convinced him to take off his pair of shoes and put on worn out slippers that were too large for his feet. A group of teenagers searched his pockets and grabbed his wallet greedily taking all his money.

The guard upon asking told us the man sold shoes a few miles away from here. He has a drinking problem and was recently seen standing over the top floor of the building trying to see how high he could stand. It took three guards to bring him down and take him home.

Any person would have shunned and turned away from the drunkard but a lady nearby got him to sit down on the bench next to where I had sat earlier. He told the lady,”Everyone judges me. Everyone calls me a drunkard, a loser and a trouble maker. Little do they know what I go through each day of my life. Let them step into my shoes for a single day and see how they fare. They will not be able to survive for a single moment.”

His words awakened feelings of sympathy for him. He was just  an individual who had lots of worries regarding his future and family. He had a wife and three kids to provide for. He had a small scale business of selling shoes which did give good returns. He had no friends to pour his heart out to. He had no income to afford a consultation with a doctor who could counsel him. The only means of escape he had was alcohol. Even if for a few hours the drug kept his problems at bay and gave him a false sense of security.

You could call him a coward, a selfish person or a man with vices. But the words he uttered made sense and touched me immensely.