LAMECK THE POET

Technology and poetry aren’t usual overlapping interests. But Lameck Kibet is a man of diverse talent. Lameck, 20, grew up in the Baba Nyumbani community and is now in his second year at Moi University studying Technology Education and Computers: not the kind of degree to leave a person with much free time. His interest in poetry is a creative outlet, and a cathartic one too. 

 

When Lameck moved into Baba Nyumbani as a boy, he, like many orphaned children who’ve experienced trauma, brought along emotional baggage. This became his main fuel for writing. 

“My life hasn’t been straight,” Lameck says. “For me, I realized that all those things I go through don’t really define me. I express them in the poem and the feelings fade away after I write. I write what I feel and see.” 

That realization comes through in Lameck’s “stage” name: Discrete. “Something “’discrete”’ is independent and separate,” he says. “At some points, I was struggling alone. That’s what inspired the name.” 

 

Poetry is the thin, jagged line between music and writing. Lameck’s aptitude for both language and music collided in this artform, made plain by a friend’s realization. “At one point I was writing a piece and gave it to someone to read,” he said, “and he told me I can write poems.” 

 

Lameck has dual dreams: aspirations to become an IT technician, with hopes to become a published writer to share his work with the world. While Horizon’s credibility as a publishing agency is perhaps questionable, we believe in Lameck and want to help him tell his story. Read his poem, “The Battle,” below. He challenges readers to tell his story – but Lameck tells his story beautifully. May we listen. 

THE BATTLE 

This battle I am faced with, 

Is one that I have to fight alone. 

While I seek in solitude. 

A shelter from the storm. 

A perfect storm of distraction. 

Howling storm of destruction. 

Raging, like the tides of the Caribbean. 

 

This battle I am faced with, 

Is one that I have to fight alone. 

Discerned by the arrow 

Of unabating death, 

Towards my heart, my young heart. 

And yet, 

I become a shield 

To save my precious life. 

Because, I know my value, 

My worth. 

I’m made of steel and Iron. 

 

This battle I am faced with, 

Is one that I have to fight alone. 

I’m a soldier, brave, strong and true, 

I’m discrete, I don’t lose. 

If you want to honour me, here’s what to do: 

Tell my story.