JOHN MSAFIRI

  MADARAKA VIBES: From Parade to Patriotism – A Child of Kenya Remembers By John Msafiri “Madaraka sio tu sherehe. Ni kumbukumbu ya udhu wetu wa kisiasa. Uhuru wetu wa kujieleza. Na majukumu yetu kama kizazi cha sasa.” – Mzee wa kijiji When you’re born in Kenya and raised anywhere between the 80s and 2000s, Madaraka Day wasn’t just a public holiday — it was a full-blown national spectacle. Part government theatre, part civic sermon, and 100% nostalgic joy, it defined what patriotism looked and felt like for an entire generation.  What’s Madaraka Again? Madaraka Day, marked every 1st of June , commemorates the day in 1963 when Kenya attained internal self-rule . It was the first real “we’ve got the keys now” moment in our political history — the bridge between colonial command and independent action. We had the power, now came the pressure.  Madaraka through the Eyes of a 90s Kid, at school, it meant sweaty rehearsals, khaki uniforms, and teachers assigning essays about J...

  A LYRICAL SALUTE TO THE OG OF PEN POWER-TRIBUTE TO NGŨGĨ WA THIONG’O | BY JOHN MSAFIRI    Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Jina kama ngoma ya freedom — Man aliandika si juu ya vibes, Aliandika juu ya vita — na si ile ya fists, Ile ya mind. Ile ya tongue. Ile ya truth.   Wasee walikua wanabonga “Wewe ni nani?” Akaandika Weep Not, Child — wakaona ni mtoto anaweza lia na bado aandike riwa! Akaweka The River Between — wakanote: between fear na hope, kuna bridge ya words.   Akaona Kenya imejipiga picha ya Uhuru, Lakini kwa ground, watu bado ni prisoners wa system. So akaandika Petals of Blood — red ink ya revolution. Walichora mistari, yeye akaandika mistari na mistari zikae manifesto.   Saa hiyo, system ika-freak. Walijaribu kumweka chini — wakaweka mwili kwa cell, But Ngũgĩ akachora Devil on the Cross kwa toilet paper! Brooo... mtu anaandika masterpiece na tissue! You? Una excuses, na uko na laptop.   Akauliza swali flani kali: “Mbona niandike kwa lugha ya mkoloni?”...

NGŨGĨ WA THIONG’O: THE PEN THAT REFUSED TO KNEEL | BY JOHN MSAFIRI In a world where pens tremble and writers seek comfort in neutral prose, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o chose fire. Not just ink. He didn’t write for applause — he wrote for awakening. And that, dear reader, is why his words will outlive regimes, syllabuses, and the rising cost of paper. Ngũgĩ wasn’t just a writer. He was a rebel with a poetic cause — a literary fre edom fighter, whispering revolution into the ears of readers who’d been taught to bow, not ask. From Limuru to the World — With a Pen and Purpose:  Born in colonial Kenya, Ngũgĩ learned early that words could be weapons. But instead of bullets, he fired novels. His early works like Weep Not, Child and The River Between offered more than classroom tales — they were love letters to a nation bleeding from the inside, written with elegance and guts. Then came Petals of Blood — and the literary tables shook. This wasn't just a novel. It was an indictment. It painted betra...