Matthew Zonis - Bamboozle

Table of Contents

Section 1: Mzungu by Mzungu

The Mzungu Lives……………………………………………………………………3

Song of the Weaverbirds……………………………………………………………...4

The 9th Wonder of the Consumerist World…………………………………………..5

Section 2: From Under the Hot Tinned Rood

Fuck the Box………………………………………………………………………….7

If I Had a Penis……………………………………………………………………….8

Between Sewer Rats and Suits……………………………………………………….9

Section 3: Bridging the Chasm

Perspective Pt. 1……………………………………………………………………..10

Perspective Pt.2 ……………………………………………………………………..12

The Devil in Guise…………………………………………………………………..13

The Illusive Man.......................................................................................................14

The Mzungu Lives


For I am the stranger in the strange land
Never on the straight and narrow, always walking on the bumpy and curved
I yearn for adventure
Hoping to unearth some hidden truth about what I want to be
Since 50k of college isn’t doing it for me
This time though, my eyes might have been bigger then what I can stomach
While my umbilical cord from home has been strained before
For the first time, it feels like it has been severed in two
While it might be long enough to cross the Eastern Seaboard
Two continents and a wide open ocean is just a little to far
While the bond still remains between me and my home
There is no one to right me up when I feel down, or turn a good day from one thats bad
I came into this land with an open mind
Hoping to unlock the secrets that have befuddled those who have come before my time
Yet every time I turn the key and unlock the door, two more pop up to take its place
Am I even making any progress or am I bound to be stuck in intellectual quicksand
Always moving forward but never getting anywhere
I feel lost wading through the swamp of the mysterious and unknown
While I try to let go of the rope from the past,
I can’t seem to find something new to latch onto and drag me out of here
Sometime I feel like my hands have been shackled together
Watching as I helplessly sink down to the ocean floor
But I am not afraid of hitting rock bottom, as I know I will rise up and become something more beautiful, and powerful, and intellectually skilled then before
Yet even when I cross the waters and return home the question still remains
Will I still be a stranger, and where is the strange land; Kenya or the U.S.A.

Song of the Weaverbirds

Has it been argued that both the apex and death of human civilization began with the microwave?
I mean never before could you cook a meal in just five minutes filled with shrimp, pasta vegetables, red dye, high fructose corn syrup and of course artificial flavors….yum.
Since when did time become the enemy in our lives? Forcing us to muscle through the bustle to get us to hustle in order to avoid struggles with superiors both near and far who just sit down all day and blow cash on nice cars and simply care about more more more and to the leaders they shout for four more to keep lining their pockets with dough dough at the expense of you.1
Isn’t it nice to be the ghost in a machine?
Since when did mud huts and hot tin roofs become the ideal urban paradise, struggling day in and day out to make the shitholes become nice since everyone’s ideal home should include plastic bottles on the left and feces on the right being stuck in the cycle that’s just vicious and bites.
Isn’t it nice to be simply being the whisper caught in the wind?
Is it really so bad to be with the simple life where peace and quiet can almost be paradise. Where time seems to move slower then molasses escaping from a jar but nobody seems to really care. Did we really replace the songs of the weaverbirds who sit high above the ebony with the sounds of a caterpillar working up thirty stories? And while dinner might take more than an hour and your day is spent transporting maize in a barrel is it that bad a trade off to recognize what you eat and pronounce all the ingredients ranging from rice to beans?
So yes while at times your back might break and stop to think your life is a mistake just think about what your tradeoff might be; stars on the sky for lights on the street.
And while the cheap samaki might tempt your appetite and the western foods might taste new and excite just remember to say bye to the cassava growing at your feet, fresh mazie in the husk, and ripened beans so sweet.
But before you go and pack your bags I do have one last request to add
When you make it to your paradise covered in dust, trash and turd
If you listen hard enough, can you still hear the songs of the weaverbirds?
The 9th Wonder of the Consumerist World
Like an asteroid hitting the earth, within the midst of Dandora lays a crater just as large
However this wasteland is not made up of a natural phenomena but is artificially constructed by the habits of man
Rather than sinking deep into the Earth, what emanates from this heap rises up towering over the rest of the slum
It is only among the graveyard of progress that Nairobi’s old landscape of swamps and grasslands begins to take form again
The size so intimidating and the smell so vile and repulsive that even the Mongols would not try and cross this Great Wall of Trash
Some might describe it as a preview to what hell is like, with you sharing the space with the poor and downtrodden next to fires that seem to rage from dawn until dusk and until dawn again
The children playing in the field next to the site must have been punished for misdeeds in their past life as the lead and mercury are inhaled with every tiny breath they take lowering their lifespan one millisecond at a time
Even though this burial mound marks the last remains of material both natural and inorganic, like a fungus, life rises up from the carcasses of past lives and blossoms amidst the stench of death
While one man’s power strip might have come in a wrong color, to the scavengers, it means food on the table for the next year
This is recycling at its most primitive; giving new life to the unwanted and recycling the bounty of livelihoods throughout the sub-divisions of society
This is the only place where the remains of airline food is treated like a meal at a 5 star restaurant
Though my mother would always complain if I got dirty while playing outside, here, intermixed with the valleys and canyons there are children as young as three dumpster diving in G-d knows what
Like scientists taking ice core samples, each layer provides a unique look on the life and times of Nairobi history.
While on the top you might find a box of an IPhone made from Apple, the only Apple you will find down below are the remains of Mother Nature’s creation.
Though the environmentalists and slacktivist might deem this place a hazard and that it should be disposed of
What do you tell a mother who uses your waste to feed her children?
What do you tell a man whose only escape from death is this life in this waste pit?
So the next time you want to complain of the mess you put others in
Just know that your pile of eternal damnation is their salvation

Fuck the Box


Just the other day I saw a parade of zombies walk down Moi Avenue
No they were not paler then usual and I can’t attest to if they bite hard or not
But their brains were turned to mush, locked in groupthink and set in their ways
When I was in school the teacher always told me to “stop thinking outside the box and step back inside that square young man”
But you know what I say; FUCK THE BOX
I want to take that machete used in the riots, cut up the box into pieces until no one’s compliant
We have all been on the blue pill trapped in the Matrix living our lives filled with blissful ignorance
You see it has always been the policy of Jomo, Moi, and Kibaki to hamper our thoughts and tell us what to believe
Since they realize that their biggest opposition is not from Railia but simply from you and me
While they might be political scumbags they are intellectually brilliant
Painting the picture that we are the enemy not the draconian government
So the ignorant will march with weapons in hand and fight brother against brother, man against man
But we need to put an end to this cycle of ignorance, wake up with red pills, and start a new dissidence
First we must light a spark under everyone’s ass, teach them rights tell them the facts
If all that they learn is propaganda from schools and the media, we have reeducate the downtrodden with our forms of knowledge and encyclopedias
As the most valuable weapon for taking back our land are minds of the youth not the weapons in your hand
Only then will we all get out to vote, uproot the corruption, and plant the newfound seeds of hope
Where the rule of the law is the law of the day and equity of opportunity is simply a parliament vote away
Then we can begin to leave a legacy, one that we are proud of; armed with responsibility
With our country then safe and protected by the values of democracy
I can safely say proclaim that “Mimi ni Kenya na Kenya ni mimi”

If I Had a Penis


If I had a penis I wonder what my life would be
Would I still be sitting around the household or in university for a degree?
Even though I am not a man would my father still support my endeavors?
I still am pretty good at math and science and could make a difference in the lives of others
I might have been a doctor helping out those who are infected with HIV/AIDS
By day a caregiver to others by night a caregiver to my family
I would have had a future with hopes, dreams, and aspirations to look forward to
Do you know how it feels to be stuck at home alone all day with just a baby and no one to look after you?
Can you imagine always being the sub servant sex, put in lockstep motion since my exit from the womb?
Wanting to be handed a textbook or a hammer and instead end up with a wash cloth and a basin
If only I had a penis then I would have control
Not having to sell my dignity and my body for my most basic needs
To play roulette with my life just to buy a sanitary napkin or some food from which to feed
Will today’s prize be another bout of gonorrhea, herpes, or will I hit the jackpot with HIV
To not have to rely on a deadbeat dad who would rather drink changaa and do drugs then look after his loved ones
When comes home as drunk as ever, will I be starring as the abused daughter or will my costars be the rats outside when I’m kicked out for ruining my youth
Is this the way it has always been and will continue to always be
Not to be looked upon as a human being but as the girl child; simply not heard but only seen

Between a Sewer River and a Suit


Do you know how it feels to be rejected on site, simply because of circumstances beyond your control?
When I was brought into this world, the luck of the dice wasn’t in my favor
I could have been an American in New York, a globetrotting Parisian boy or an Australian supermodel but instead I got dumped to the depths of Kibera
But this is my life and I have tried to make the most
Rather than sitting around with cheap drugs or hitting up girls hard
I was reading literature and hitting up my books instead
Do not lump me in as just another statistic like the rest of them
I worked hard for what I own, what I’ve accomplished, from where I’ve grown
So that does not give you the right to reject me on arrival after seeing where I am from
If I told you I was top of my class could you imagine that?
Or when I reply that “no I have never committed a crime” do you think that I just spoke a lie?
Can it really be true that sitting in front of you is an upright citizen from the depths of Kibera
Who always played by the rules and didn’t end up a product of vices but rather of virtues
But regardless I know you will go through the motions, say your pleasantries then kick me out of your office never to be seen
So explain to me how life can induce parity
When you only got that desk because of the father of the bride that you are marrying
Who has been coddled and spoiled for his own life
Picked on the little ones but was too scared to get into a fight
Though I do not wish my life on you since I know the roles could have been reversed at birth
But if I was sitting behind that desk, I’d not look at where you came from but the content of your character which I seek

Perspective Pt. 1


When you come through my land I wonder what you see
Are your preconceived notions all proven right from simply the aesthetics?
Just by walking around on your “safety tour” do you think you really know me
Am I so simple I can be summed up in a word or phrase without me having the chance to defend myself or my ways?
I wonder if you can look past the suffering and the beggars on the street
Little children screaming “How Are You” stroking your ego and kissing your feet
Can you stop for once and soak in the chi, the hustle and bustle, and positive energy
Though we might be poor and live simply that’s a big difference from being simple and living poorly
Are you so afraid of being killed, mugged or robbed that you intentionally brought along those 4 armed guards
Well if you were looking for a gang fight I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but we only get the spotlight when someone gets in trouble
It’s nice to know no one comes in to see our progress and community projects, but when the shit hits the fan, we are treated like animals or intimate objects
They don’t look for our best, only things that gives the public heavy jevvies
Screw the Jersey Shore this is true Reality TV
And stop all you’re bitching that we are lazy and just take handouts
Since I get up at the crack of down to serve as a matatu tout
I bet you didn’t know of the real estate man owning dozens of houses down in Mathare
Or of the fruit stand guy who just franchised out into Kariobangi
Just because we don’t have a shiny new diploma that says we are qualified
I come from the school of hard knocks that was twice as lethal and just as bona fide.
So instead of giving us some aid for your overblown education
Give us some running water or healthcare in our next allocation
The next time you come on down with the cameras asking for our support
Don’t be surprised if we stand up and crack a wise ass retort.


Perspective Pt. 2


I wonder what you see when you pass me down the street
Do I just look like another mzungu wondering around Nairobi with two left feet?
Just because I am white do you think I don’t have a care in the world?
That I am ignorant and oblivious to the problems of others
Simply because I am a foreigner do you assume I have lots of money?
That I smoke cigars rolled out of ones and hear jokes about the poor and think it’s funny?
Well between you and me we have more in common than simply from what you can see
I am not just simply a spoiled brat only caring for myself and being culturally ignorant
But I am a student of the world and open to all forms of cultural shifts, languages, and wherever my adventure may take me
I do realize when you snicker about me behind my back and that I understand when you try and rip me off on the matatu simply because I am not black
While you might think I am rolling in dough I too am struggling, being a student in the states requires lots of hard work and just a bit of hustling
Unlike most of the U.S.A I know that Africa isn’t a country on its own, I can point out Kenya on a world map, and my vision of the continent is not just from Jolie and Bono
Just because I am a red head I don’t think you could tell I’m Jewish, and for the last g-d damn time I have no tails, horns, or an oversized nose
Even you might think I am out in Nairobi out on vacation, sometimes I wake up stressed from school or work and want to return to my home nation
But just like you I seem to persevere, experience the highest highs, the lowest lows, all of the happiness and feel all of the fear
So yes I might look like the mzungu for mzungu show and prance around town in my flip flops and shorts
But sit down for some lunch and trust me, I’ll win you over to the white side


The Devil in Guise


I have lurked to the depths of the devil and seen the face of evil
It wears many masks with each layer getting more crude and twisted then the last
On the surface it seems the safe; just like anything else
Simply a wolf in sheep’s clothing pushing back against releasing its true self
At first you might seem sorry for the poor creature and even back its reasoning and forgetting its flaws
Standing up for the weakest of the flock is a just and worthy cause
But as soon as you stroke its ego, the woolen exterior seems to fall by the wayside
As its true form starts to emerge it’s easy to see why it has so many followers
If out of fear they do not submit, they will be ostracized from the rest
For what were once brothers and fathers and sisters and mothers are now bitter enemies on opposite ends of the spectrum
It speaks of a spiritual diet filled with constant devotion and inner cleansing
But does not realize the hypocrisy it spews from its cold blooded mouth
Though it might be on a jihad against the practices of the Christ
In practice, it obeys what it set out to silence in preaching
It can take a bullet and let it go through its heart
But it thinks it will rise up again waiting to take another shot
It lives to fulfill the salvation of others
But since when did racketeering, extortion, and self policing turn into the work of both saints and sinners
It is the worst possible cross between the mafia and al-shabab
Fermenting false hope and the oath of the lifetime in the name of a false g-d
Since one way or another there will be blood
Just hope you don’t up end on the other end of the bludgeoned club.


Illusive Man


If a cat should have 9 lives then what would you call me since I am invincible
I am the gatekeeper to what is sacred and holy
Should I see you on the street and you have sinned
I will engorge myself in your cleansing and spiritual rebirth
As I curse out your sinning half and launch it into the fire
I take joy in turning the wicked into the righteous
Permanently giving you the physical covenant between yourself and my lord
Give me all of the Abel and none of the Cain
I sacrifice my goats to a higher power
And drink the blood so I can feel you inside me
You do not know who I really am
For I am not a drunker, thief, an adultery, or mera man
I am not a rebellious madmen looking to collect skulls
But to protect my family, community and G-d, I will smite out the infidel in my jihad
What you call extortion I call a job
How else can the wretched and forgotten live in this life without a means for survival?
I wear my dreads and chew my chavious with pride
And when the Koa Koa come in and executes anyone who they wish
Who can you really say is the enemy and who is the wolf in sheep’s clothing
However even though you think I am long forgotten, I am in the shadows waiting to strike
If you can’t see me how can you know the Mungiki inside of me
You might come with bribes and tools of the false G-d
But I will come back and recruit with tools of hope and strike fear into you all in the name of my lord
So do not forget my eyes which you have seen
Since one day soon, I will make sure you will bleed for your misdeeds





1 Meant to be read at a fast pace