Artistry is personified at the Goan hall in Milimani estate Kisumu every Friday evening.

Under the Mango tree, it’s where we speak words like poetry…………..  (guys, you know the drill!) Ok, this is now history.

But now, this segment has moved to the flamboyant Kisumu Hotel every Friday, from 6-9pm, by the poolside, starting Friday March 18, 2016!

Lover’s of spoken word, this is for you! Every Friday, 6-9pm at Kisumu Hotel by the pool!


Or at least it used to be. Now keep up. Sometime back a collection of creative arts would convene at the Goan hall and express their talents. They shared with each other before it was more sensible to have an audience. So they opened the doors and poetic hour was born.

When Nairobi is tweeting #TGIF,a spoken word artist is playing puzzles with the alphabet trying to create a mystery out of abstract things. Based on observation, perhaps personal experiences and those of the people around him, he pens down hilarious pieces. He might no have a golden statue for it but there is honest zeal in his words. That is priceless.

It’s a collection of young and talented humans with minds so complex it’s a certified conundrum.

There are music artists, painters and drawing gurus who will leave your jaw on the floor when they hold a pencil in their hands. Some are very shy and takes more than just playful banter and raillery to get them to share their works. One boy I met drawing for his niece refuses to go to Goan hall. But he supported poetic hour while it was still at the venue. It has since moved. He doesn’t know where it was moved to after the hall was sold. Now we know, don’t we?

So how does my cousin fit in this lyrically correct and picture perfect scenario you ask?

Well let’s see.

She is a spoken word artist. She is easily distracted by their very own king of comedy. So she tell me a little about him. I listen because I can tell she likes him. Not to lay, in the sense that she wants good for him. His name is Aboxan and he discovered his talent during a poetic convening like the poetic hour. He supports the platform not because it is obligatory, but because he is indebted to similar opportunity platforms and deeply feels for the wasted talent in the streets of Kisumu. He hopes to be bigger than Churchill. From her tone, I can tell that Churchill is just mere inspiration for Aboxan, he has dreams bigger than the pacific. Dont we like Aboxan?

Every Friday, an opportunity presents itself. For a girl brought up in a dysfunctional home with her only male figure being an abusive ugly ducklin. That is not a euphemism. I find nothing uglier than a man with a black heart. Especially if the black hot coal he bleeds burns innocent souls. He could be the face of the devil for all we care. The first romantic relationship a girl enjoys is with her father. When you take that away because you did not donate the seed that birthed her, then you have shattered her romantic relations. For her male friends, for her future boyfriends, for her husband: you have created a hole in which she casts all her doubts of male sanity. That hole curves into her heart and she cannot give any man ever all of her. You are far more despicable a scar than a first degree burn mark.

I sound bitter but that is my polite description of what she said she pens down and shares with an audience. She loves to share with strangers because she finds they have no hold on her. They don’t know her hence cannot judge her. That sense of obscurity gives her the confidence to write every chance she gets. She has amassed a list of artistic fans. They are all between the ages of nineteen and twenty one. But they share much more than their age.

To this lot that is usually ostracized for choosing to express themselves differently. This group of young minds, fragile hearts and innocent bodies are looking for a platform, poetic Friday offers that on a small scale. They are hungry and their zeal is unmatched.

So how about it Kisumu? Find it in, within and amongst you top support creative expression.

I cannot promise that it won’t be a waste of your time. All I am saying is, to an artist a platform, that they haven’t had is not just a mere opportunity. It is a second chance. That which you hold on to like its your second skin. To these young lads, much like my cousin, these rooms are an incubator in which they nurture dreams and breathe life into their hopes.

Support your arts Kisumu 🙂

Read about Part One Here

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