img_0993Cheeto the Cheetah was a dear little soul

The mum was hunted down leaving her alone

Out came the rangers she was no more forlorn

Rescued little Cheeto from any more harm

Cheeto was rescued once and for all

Cheeto came from North Eastern Wajir  County

Richard Kanjwony found her, what a bounty

Two weeks old Cheeto wrapped up and warm

Flew to Wilson Airport away from the storm

Cheeto was rescued and now was in form

Once in Nairobi Animal care took over

Edwards expert care took Cheeto over

Her eyes were not open and she was bottle fed

But she was so happy and not at all sad

Vaccine was given to keep her well

Cheeto was rescued once and for all

Soon Cheeto with all the love  and care

The Animal Orphanage and Mama     Nurturing care

Opened her eyes and began to play

Furry toys dangled for her to see and flay

Cheeto was rescued once and for all

One sunny day Cheeto was adopted and named

Iman for her birthday to celebrate

What a delight to know that soon she would move

Out into the open where other cheetahs roam

Cheeto was rescued one and for all

Now that we know that Cheeto is loved

We feel so grateful that  none go uncared

With the team at the Orphanage all are tamed

Cheetahs you know are very handsome cats

Cheeto  the Cheetah is rescued once ready for pats

Cheeto can lick herself clean and fresh

Her milk comes to her in a bottle all fresh

Soon she will move to the open the air so fresh

For all visitors to see and know she is safe

Cheeto is rescued we are so glad she is safe.

2nd November

Shariffa

I love my Khangalands Is it’s chosen place Before you and I

img_0658
The paisley design
The khorosho design
Reminiscent of the nut
Nature made it all
Before you and I

The intricate mandalas
Like the galaxy above
Planets and myriad stars
In orbit by the Divine
Before you and I

The joy of a dancing step
Sets off the colour divine
I am the Lord of the dance
The dance of angels divine
His grace thought it all
Before you and I

I beckon to My Lord
In humble appeal
To bless my heart
With infinite patience
That was there always
Before you and I

Magenta and pink meld
In Bandhani harmony
Fine feathers maketh
Not a beautiful bird
All praise is due to Him
Before you and I

Foliage circles
Circles and squares
Foliage and bird combine
Centre adorned by borders
Where the bird lands
Is it’s chosen place
Before you and I
The paisley design
The khorosho design
Reminiscent of the nut
Nature made it all
Before you and I

The intricate mandalas
Like the galaxy above
Planets and myriad stars
In orbit by the Divine
Before you and I

The joy of a dancing step
Sets off the colour divine
I am the Lord of the dance
The dance of angels divine
His grace thought it all
Before you and I

I beckon to My Lord
In humble appeal
To bless my heart
With infinite patience
That was there always
Before you and I

Magenta and pink meld
In Bandhani harmony
Fine feathers maketh
Not a beautiful bird
All praise is due to Him
Before you and I

Foliage circles
Circles and squares
Foliage and bird combine
Centre adorned by borders
Where the bird lands
Is it’s chosen place
Before you and I
The paisley design
The khorosho design
Reminiscent of the nut
Nature made it all
Before you and I

The intricate mandalas
Like the galaxy above
Planets and myriad stars
In orbit by the Divine
Before you and I

The joy of a dancing step
Sets off the colour divine
I am the Lord of the dance
The dance of angels divine
His grace thought it all
Before you and I

I beckon to My Lord
In humble appeal
To bless my heart
With infinite patience
That was there always
Before you and I

Magenta and pink meld
In Bandhani harmony
Fine feathers maketh
Not a beautiful bird
All praise is due to Him
Before you and I

Foliage circles
Circles and squares
Foliage and bird combine
Centre adorned by borders
Where the bird lands
Is it’s chosen place
Before you and I

Freedom

I had been running all night 

Only the night was safe 

They were everywhere 

Foul Angry determination 

Yet ours an earnest cry 

A cry for justice for all

The people of Kenya 

Inequality injustice 

Was a yoke of servitude

We had to be unshackled 
I stumble in the under growth 

I am bruised scratched exhausted 

I am broken of heart and mind 

On bended knees I cry

Oh lord give me a sign

There before me is light

A sign yes to carry on 

I forge ahead to the cave 

There in the tree to hide 

Safe all our ammunition 


Violence is not my nature

Yet I have no other way 

Forgive me Oh Lord 

Much blood is shed 

Innocent heads roll

But finally we arrive 

Our flag unfurled 

So we can stand

Our heads held high

Now we visit the site

Karura our forest 

Regained and proud

The caves etched 

In perpetuity to recall

The struggle we sustain

To gain that is right 


Here is our treasure 

Beauty regained 

The river freely flows 

The trees stand proud 

Give back to the people

Of Kenya it’s inheritance 

Bridging the past present 

We walk we breath in

The birds nest and safe

The crowned eagle now 

Majestic in its forest 

Now regained forever 

Little hands come now

To treasure the forest

With Reiki hands to sew

To plant and water anew 

Seeds of future joy hope 

Give back to earth again

That God had granted 

In his mighty abundance 

Of all sentient beings 

Being but from one source 

Jasmin…asmini 

In my garden 

ASMINI

Do you remember the jasmine? 

I do, so special it was to grow one. 

I had a rose bush not an asmini one 

On my way to school I’d pass by 

Pick some delicate pink buds up

Carefully places on top of the pencils 

Gently placed in the desk to be watched

Each petal gently uncurl and unfurled 

Magical silky white and pale pinked 

The desk lid opened the scent emerged

Bibi Sayidi sold them these tender buds 

Ten cents if you had it 

Coveted those little secret buds 

Through the hat pin I twine the buds

The whole handful its treasure bound 
My neighbour looped a posse 

On long lithe dark silken plait 

Garlands hung in temple doors 

Idols adorned by jasmine floret
At Humayun’s temple the very branch

Was cascading jasmine as we passed 

Below our feet above our head 

The jasmine sent a scent into the dusk 

Jasmine blossom, jasmine crushed 

It’s memory crushed into the heart ever sound 

The jasmine lost and found 

Pressed into my favourite book bound 

A memory of a meeting shh not a sound 

The wedding sadness fought

The memories of youth so lost 

In the posse at the end of the tresses

Strewn randomly in the marriage bed 
Memories life’s regrets and passion 

All entwined in the hat pin 

Memories a possession
Do you remember the jasmine? 
A kind aunt would bend a twig 

Into the pot I brought

Place a stone to graft and a water swig

Tender waiting days are cast 

Then at last is the jasmin plant 

Your very own 
And now in September oh jasmin

You cascade from every hedge vine 

In Tumultuous abandon you give the scent my way 

You are quite unstoppable I say. 

Shariffa

Ngong Hills Kenya

Ngong Hills Kenya 
As I leave the house every morning,I could always take a short cut to my destination. However, I choose the more scenic route. It gives me great pleasure. It offers me the view of the Ngong Hills. 

The lore that the hills were like giant knuckles turned to the sky was always present in the sighting of the Ngong Hills. 

All my familiar sights have a story. I like that very much. 

This morning the mist is low over the Ngong Hills. Like a bridal veil, the beauty is covered. Covered for a while only to lift up and reveal its fresh beauty. There is a kind of throbbing expectation to the sight. 

Some clear days the hills stand there vibrant in the sun shine,the trees dense from a distance. A variety of greens deep and visible from afar. 

Sometimes the hills entertained me and give me a view that is clear and sometimes,shrouded over in parts. 

It is as thought the hills and I have a dialogue set up. Every day is a surprise. We have a bond those hills and I. 

Wherever I travelled I look out for the hills. 

Returning from the game park, at dusk, the hills are bathed in the last light of the day. Brilliant sun setting over the hills lending the hills such colour. As soon as the sun had set,there they are, dark silhouettes. 

From the sky the Ngong hills are a mark of where I am. What am I looking down upon. The Wilson Airport. The game park near by. They are familiar indications of my beautiful city in the sun. To which,I come home from a holiday abroad. The sight of the Ngong Hills is a welcome back. A greeting of welcoming me home. A special thrill, a warmth that spreads all over me in seeing my version of the Ngong Hills. 

For when I drive into Karen and am close to the hills and can hardly see them, the words of Karen Blixen came to mind 

‘ I had a farm in Africa,at the foot of the Ngong Hills’

Hers is yet another story indelibly etched in the mind by Karen Blixen and by the popular movie, ‘ Out Of Africa.’ The words spoken by Meryl Streep. 

Often I have climbed up to the top of the hills. On one such occasion,I climbed with my son Irfan. It was very early morning. The misty chill nipped us in the bud. Exhilarating. When all at once as we ascended, the deseness deepened. We could not see. The unknown made us pause. In silent wisdom we stopped.so did time We sat down for movement was not a choice. 
Engulfed in the silence of the mist. Another dimension. 

A vista unfolded before me. A time lapse. 

I am climbing through the mist. At The top of the hill, a figure awaits. A monk, his cowl low over the head. I see it is Irfan. He is in the herbarium. I visit often for special potions, herbs, and some wisdom. 

It is a bond that spans over time. A connection of sharing some special gnosis, not barred by time. 

Timeless as are the Ngong Hills. 
Shariffa Keshavjee 

July 2016 

Eid

After days of contemplation

We look skyward to site the moon 

It’s sliver of a cusp proclaims 

Baraka to all who are receptive 

Baraka is neither from the East nor West

It emanates from he who is above all else 

The spiritual beneficence showers all 

Who are ready to receive 

In humility 

Baraka comes from the divine 

Showers us all on earth today and always 

In Hebrew in Arabic it humbles all

Recipients not of the East nor West 

It is showering in every moment 

Continuously for all to receive 

It does not cease nor pause

So when we look skyward and see 

The appearance of the moon 

It is just a reflection of God’s creation

Not of the East nor West or up or down 

Baraka comes to all sentient beings

Who kneel in supplication 

So raise your eyes wherever you are 

Bend your knees ready to receive 

That which is ever present 

Mubarak Mubarak whoever you are 

Be blessed today and every day 

Submitting to That which is above all else 

As you wish each other 

Eid Mubarak 

May be he Baraka go into the universe 

And ricochet right back to your heart 

Shariffa 

Eid July 2016 

River Frost 1914 Two neighbours meet to mend a wall in the spring time:

“Mending Wall” (1914) by Robert Frost

Selected lines: (the entire poem and link follows at the end)
“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

……… There where it is we do not need the wall:

 He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

 My apple trees will never get across

 And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

 He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

 Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

 If I could put a notion in his head:

 “Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it

 Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

 Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

 What I was walling in or walling out,

 And to whom I was like to give offence.

 Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

……………………..”

Mending Wall – Wikisource, the free online library

The entire poem:

“Mending Wall” (1914) by Robert Frost
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

 That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

 And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

 And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

 The work of hunters is another thing:

 I have come after them and made repair

 Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

 But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

 To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

 No one has seen them made or heard them made,

 But at spring mending-time we find them there.

 I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;

 And on a day we meet to walk the line

 And set the wall between us once again.

 We keep the wall between us as we go.

 To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

 And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

 We have to use a spell to make them balance:

 “Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”

 We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

 Oh, just another kind of out-door game,

 One on a side. It comes to little more:

 There where it is we do not need the wall:

 He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

 My apple trees will never get across

 And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

 He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

 Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

 If I could put a notion in his head:

 “Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it

 Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

 Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

 What I was walling in or walling out,

 And to whom I was like to give offence.

 Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

 That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,

 But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather

 He said it for himself. I see him there

 Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

 In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

 He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

 Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

 He will not go behind his father’s saying,

 And he likes having thought of it so well

 He says again, “Good fences make good neighbours.”
Here are my views 
Across time and space?

Are two men closing space 

Ever time at spring time 

They come together

To keep apart my side 

You keep on your side

Just as we do now 

With our myopic views 

Just so that we can abide

By an old adage 

‘Good fences make 

Good neighbours ‘

Wish that a mere fence

Were enough to make me 

Good. 

Shariffa Keshavjee