Mumbi Macharia is a performing spoken word poet, published author, and content creator. Having begun her journey as a poet in 2015, she is regarded as a luminary in the spoken word scene in East Africa, having performed on major poetry stages in Nairobi, Kampala, and Dar es Salaam.
In 2020, Mumbi self published her debut poetry book titled “ When I Learned How to Walk & Other Poems”, and is working on more literary projects.
when I learned how to
walk
walk
by Mumbi Macharia
When I learned how to walk,
my mother says she wondered
if I would be able to walk through this
world
with my head held high,
walking with her pride,
and stepping with the grace of her mother’s
stride.
When I learned how to walk,
my mother hoped that I would learn
to always go the extra mile with her.
When I learned how to walk,
I wonder if my mother hoped that I would
never leave her.
When I spoke my first words,
my mother says she hoped that I would always
speak love into existence,
even with the words that I scribbled in my
books.
When I spoke my first words,
I wonder if my mother hoped I would never
stop telling her I love her.
When I bring my own children into this
world,
into this same,
ever-changing,
uncertain world,
I will teach them to give thanks for the
things that still remain constant;
like gravity, at least,
or the fact that even with humanity at a
standstill,
the sun, without fail, still rises from the
east.
Maumbile hayabadiliki. Dunia bado ni duara.
(Nature does not change its form; the world
is still a sphere).
I will teach my children
that love is a verb,
as much as it is a noun.
I will teach my children that God is good,
all the time,
even if all the time,
all isn’t good,
at least all the time,
God is always on time.
I hope my children will understand me.
I hope they will understand what I mean,
when I tell them that they should be dawn
in a world full of midnights,
or that they should be the sun in a world
full of dim lights.
I will teach my children
to always raise their hands and answer
questions,
even when they are afraid of not being
right.
I will teach my children
to speak with conviction,
as if they are God in the Genesis,
commanding light out of darkness.
my mother says she wondered
if I would be able to walk through this
world
with my head held high,
walking with her pride,
and stepping with the grace of her mother’s
stride.
When I learned how to walk,
my mother hoped that I would learn
to always go the extra mile with her.
When I learned how to walk,
I wonder if my mother hoped that I would
never leave her.
When I spoke my first words,
my mother says she hoped that I would always
speak love into existence,
even with the words that I scribbled in my
books.
When I spoke my first words,
I wonder if my mother hoped I would never
stop telling her I love her.
When I bring my own children into this
world,
into this same,
ever-changing,
uncertain world,
I will teach them to give thanks for the
things that still remain constant;
like gravity, at least,
or the fact that even with humanity at a
standstill,
the sun, without fail, still rises from the
east.
Maumbile hayabadiliki. Dunia bado ni duara.
(Nature does not change its form; the world
is still a sphere).
I will teach my children
that love is a verb,
as much as it is a noun.
I will teach my children that God is good,
all the time,
even if all the time,
all isn’t good,
at least all the time,
God is always on time.
I hope my children will understand me.
I hope they will understand what I mean,
when I tell them that they should be dawn
in a world full of midnights,
or that they should be the sun in a world
full of dim lights.
I will teach my children
to always raise their hands and answer
questions,
even when they are afraid of not being
right.
I will teach my children
to speak with conviction,
as if they are God in the Genesis,
commanding light out of darkness.