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Where the Hell is Moses Kuria?

It seems Moses Kuria, the man of many portfolios, embarked on a whirlwind adventure through the halls of government, only to find himself in a comedic conundrum. Starting off strong as the Cabinet Secretary for Investments, Trade, and Industry, he was the talk of the town. But alas, fate had other plans. In a twist fit for a sitcom, Kuria found himself shuffled over to the Public Service portfolio faster than you can say "bureaucratic shuffle". Then, the plot thickened! In a classic case of diplomatic drama, the US Trade Representative, Katherine Tai, decided to give Kuria a cold shoulder after cancelling not one, but two meetings with him. The reason? His "foul mouth". Oh, the irony! It seems even the most seasoned politicians can't escape the wrath of a sharp tongue. Since then, Kuria has seemingly vanished into thin air, keeping a low profile that would make even Bigfoot jealous. Rumour has it he's taken up residence in a cozy cave somewhere, pondering th

Blue Ribbon Against Child Abuse

"It's not a good idea to interfere in what goes on behind closed doors." This is what too many people say. "Interfere"! I say "What kind of person doesn't interfere"?









































































































My name is Sarah
I am but three,
my eyes are swollen
I cannot see.

I must be stupid,
I must be bad,
what else could have made
my daddy so mad?

I wish I were better,
I wish I weren't ugly,
then maybe my Mommy
would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all,
I can't do a wrong
or else I'm locked up
all the day long.

When I awake I'm all alone
the house is dark
my folks aren't home.

When my Mommy does come
I'll try and be nice,
so maybe I'll get just
one whipping tonight.

Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car
my daddy is back
from Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse
my name he calls
I press myself
against the wall.

I try and hide
from his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry.

He finds me weeping
he shouts ugly words,
he says its my fault
that he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me
and yells at me more,
I finally get free
and I run for the door.


He's already locked it
and I start to bawl,
he takes me and throws me
against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor
with my bones nearly broken,
and my daddy continues
with more bad words spoken.

'I'm sorry!' I scream
but its now much too late
his face has been twisted
into unimaginable hate.

The hurt and the pain
again and again
oh please God, have mercy!
oh please let it end!

And he finally stops
and heads for the door,
while I lay there motionless
sprawled on the floor.

My name is Sarah
and I am but three,
tonight my daddy
murdered me.

There are thousands of kids out there just like Sarah. And you can help.

All I am asking you to do is take some time to send this on and acknowledge that this stuff does happen, and that people like her dad do live in our society, and pray for child abuse to wither out and die; but also pray for the safety of our youth.

Please pass this poem on as a Blue Ribbon Against Child Abuse because, as crazy as it might sound, it might just indirectly change a life.

Comments

Ann Brewer said…
i am a child abuse survivor. if only people would have interfered. would have saved me from the scars i have. I can say i wasnt physically beat like this every day but the days i was i wished someone could have stopped it. i will forever supposrt CHILD ABUSE PREVENTION!

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