For Moraa, a mix of passion and pain: Will love say goodbye this Valentine’s Day?
When the late Kenyan musician Fadhili William sang,“Malaika, nakupenda malaika” he described the perfect love affair that many people wish for and dream about. This Kiswahili song can be translated as, “Angel, I love you angel.” Regardless of this universal desire, it is no secret that this Valentine's, some of you won’t be embracing a lover but instead turning to the cold side of your pillows (a win is a win).
Nevertheless, the world will carry on—some serenaded by “Malaika” and other romantic songs, all cuddled up as they consume Netflix movies, and others swept up in grand gestures at monumental sights. By November, midwives will have a field day. Many have sung, acted, and written about love. Still, I am yet to meet one who expresses it with as much longing, desire, and honesty as Scholastica Moraa.
Her poetry collection, When Love Says Goodbye, is an emotional whirlwind, guiding the reader on the peaks of love and loss, desire and loathing in a manner that invites the reader to connect with their feelings in a way that feels deeply personal and profoundly universal.
In Nairobi, as in many parts of the world, love has become complicated, thanks to the so-called Alpha males and women of the red pill community, who prioritize personal peace and material success over emotional connection. Love has grown cold, and more people are carrying hearts of stone rather than flesh. Unimpressible. The growing emphasis on therapy, red flags, and toxic traits has,, shortened the lifespan of relationships—including friendships and family bonds. In a world that encourages self-preservation over vulnerability, genuine connection feels more elusive than ever. It has created a culture of hypervigilance where every disagreement is scrutinized, every flaw is magnified and every imperfection labelled a ‘red flag’.
Setting boundaries sometimes leads to an unwillingness to navigate the natural messiness of human relationships. Not every misunderstanding signals incompatibility, and not every flaw is a deal-breaker. In a world that prioritizes individual happiness above all else, relationships are becoming more disposable, with people choosing solitude or curated online connections over the hard work of sustaining deep, meaningful bonds—often for clout and a share of Zuckerberg’s coins.
Why is Love so complicated? There is a saying, “Life is about two things; either chasing love or running away from it.” This couldn’t be more accurate. Crimes of passion, intimate partner violence, and fierce family feuds have become frighteningly normal when love turns sour. Recently in Kenya, a church member, enraged upon discovering that one of their church elders was patronising his lover’s business, hid a knife in the bible and stabbed the elder right in front of the church! It is such actions that force one to wonder whether love is worth it. An emotion so strong that it drives someone to take a life. That you can die in the name of love is ironic; it is tragic! Yet, despite the suffering that love brings, it remains the most powerful and enduring human desire existing alongside other deep emotional pursuits.
Falling vs Growing in Love
"Getting to know someone shouldn’t be urgent," remarked a participant at a Poetry Slam event at the Kenya National Theatre this January. It was the first time I had encountered such candid perspectives during our street interviews for the When Love Says Goodbye launch. This advice serves as a reminder to manage our expectations of others, avoiding the trap of placing unrealistic hopes on them. Otherwise, we may find ourselves nursing wounded hearts, seeking solace in Moraa’s words from her poem, “Sorry”:
I am sorry I fell in love with you.
I am sorry I broke my own heart.
So sorry.
Despite all the Love 101 lessons, how often do we actually heed them? If we’re not delusionally rushing to build picture-perfect lives—babies and bliss by the ocean—we’re on the opposite extreme, so guarded that we shut down emotionally. Perhaps the truly happy ones are those who never lose themselves in love and still maintain their fire. But would it still be love if we didn’t grow into it? If we don’t nurture it with patience, understanding, and intention? Love is often romanticized as a reckless fall—sudden and all-consuming—but what if true love isn’t about losing ourselves but about discovering deeper versions of who we are? Should love be blind, as the infamous saying suggests, or should it be a conscious choice, a steady flame rather than a fleeting spark?
What happens when words fail to capture the depth of our emotions? When love lingers unspoken, unreciprocated, or misunderstood? Moraa’s poetry reminds us that love—whether quiet or blazing—is a force that shapes us. My favorite poem from her collection is Quiet Love:
I know you want me to love you quietly
I try I swear I do.
But my love courses through my veins like magma
It spills on the ground and scorches a pathway
Tell me. How can I love you quietly
When you set my whole body aflame?
Love the African Way
What does it mean to be loved the African way? Since that Valentine’s song debuted on Instagram, some of you reading this have been single like a forgotten umbrella (no pressure!). Is there a distinction between a Hollywood romance and a Kenyan, Ugandan or Ethiopian romance?
“You know, for a Kenyan man sometimes, romance isn’t their thing. As long as they feed you and provide a home for you, then that is enough for them,” Moraa remarked in one of our interviews. For many who grew up dreaming of sweeping Hollywood romances like the story of Rose and Jack in Titanic, this starkly pragmatic view of love can feel less magical. The Cinderella story seems to be deeply etched into the psyches of many dreamers of love which often ends in disappointment (Surely, Priscilla, with your size 9 shoes, you aren’t still dreaming of a Cinderella story!). For men, appearing or needing to appear as the ultimate saviour and redeemer of the woman is palpable (guys, let’s be serious). So maybe love isn’t reckless falling but measured affection. It isn’t blind but practical, because if love is blind, how can two blind people lead each other? Surely, the only destination is a ditch! As the internet people say, “Dust will be constant!” if you fall recklessly. Maybe, just maybe, you should accept those kilos of rice and pineapples that man sends you this time.
The Red Party
And so, this journey through love’s highs and lows will find its grand finale at Alliance Française on Valentine’s Day from 4 pm with Moraa’s book launch at what has been dubbed The Red Party. “My poetry resonates with women in Kenya. I want to show that poetry doesn’t have to be wrapped in complicated language—it should be felt and understood,” she said.
This Valentine’s, the question isn’t whether love is worth it, but whether we are willing to embrace both its beauty and its chaos—because where there is passion, there is often pain.
Tracy Ochieng is a staff writer with Books in Africa. Email: tracy.ochieng@ekitabu.com
For Moraa, a mix of passion and pain: Will love say goodbye this Valentine’s Day?
When the late Kenyan musician Fadhili William sang,“Malaika, nakupenda malaika” he described the perfect love affair that many people wish for and dream about. This Kiswahili song can be translated as, “Angel, I love you angel.” Regardless of this universal desire, it is no secret that this Valentine's, some of you won’t be embracing a lover but instead turning to the cold side of your pillows (a win is a win).
Nevertheless, the world will carry on—some serenaded by “Malaika” and other romantic songs, all cuddled up as they consume Netflix movies, and others swept up in grand gestures at monumental sights. By November, midwives will have a field day. Many have sung, acted, and written about love. Still, I am yet to meet one who expresses it with as much longing, desire, and honesty as Scholastica Moraa.
Her poetry collection, When Love Says Goodbye, is an emotional whirlwind, guiding the reader on the peaks of love and loss, desire and loathing in a manner that invites the reader to connect with their feelings in a way that feels deeply personal and profoundly universal.
In Nairobi, as in many parts of the world, love has become complicated, thanks to the so-called Alpha males and women of the red pill community, who prioritize personal peace and material success over emotional connection. Love has grown cold, and more people are carrying hearts of stone rather than flesh. Unimpressible. The growing emphasis on therapy, red flags, and toxic traits has,, shortened the lifespan of relationships—including friendships and family bonds. In a world that encourages self-preservation over vulnerability, genuine connection feels more elusive than ever. It has created a culture of hypervigilance where every disagreement is scrutinized, every flaw is magnified and every imperfection labelled a ‘red flag’.
Setting boundaries sometimes leads to an unwillingness to navigate the natural messiness of human relationships. Not every misunderstanding signals incompatibility, and not every flaw is a deal-breaker. In a world that prioritizes individual happiness above all else, relationships are becoming more disposable, with people choosing solitude or curated online connections over the hard work of sustaining deep, meaningful bonds—often for clout and a share of Zuckerberg’s coins.
Why is Love so complicated? There is a saying, “Life is about two things; either chasing love or running away from it.” This couldn’t be more accurate. Crimes of passion, intimate partner violence, and fierce family feuds have become frighteningly normal when love turns sour. Recently in Kenya, a church member, enraged upon discovering that one of their church elders was patronising his lover’s business, hid a knife in the bible and stabbed the elder right in front of the church! It is such actions that force one to wonder whether love is worth it. An emotion so strong that it drives someone to take a life. That you can die in the name of love is ironic; it is tragic! Yet, despite the suffering that love brings, it remains the most powerful and enduring human desire existing alongside other deep emotional pursuits.
Falling vs Growing in Love
"Getting to know someone shouldn’t be urgent," remarked a participant at a Poetry Slam event at the Kenya National Theatre this January. It was the first time I had encountered such candid perspectives during our street interviews for the When Love Says Goodbye launch. This advice serves as a reminder to manage our expectations of others, avoiding the trap of placing unrealistic hopes on them. Otherwise, we may find ourselves nursing wounded hearts, seeking solace in Moraa’s words from her poem, “Sorry”:
I am sorry I fell in love with you.
I am sorry I broke my own heart.
So sorry.
Despite all the Love 101 lessons, how often do we actually heed them? If we’re not delusionally rushing to build picture-perfect lives—babies and bliss by the ocean—we’re on the opposite extreme, so guarded that we shut down emotionally. Perhaps the truly happy ones are those who never lose themselves in love and still maintain their fire. But would it still be love if we didn’t grow into it? If we don’t nurture it with patience, understanding, and intention? Love is often romanticized as a reckless fall—sudden and all-consuming—but what if true love isn’t about losing ourselves but about discovering deeper versions of who we are? Should love be blind, as the infamous saying suggests, or should it be a conscious choice, a steady flame rather than a fleeting spark?
What happens when words fail to capture the depth of our emotions? When love lingers unspoken, unreciprocated, or misunderstood? Moraa’s poetry reminds us that love—whether quiet or blazing—is a force that shapes us. My favorite poem from her collection is Quiet Love:
I know you want me to love you quietly
I try I swear I do.
But my love courses through my veins like magma
It spills on the ground and scorches a pathway
Tell me. How can I love you quietly
When you set my whole body aflame?
Love the African Way
What does it mean to be loved the African way? Since that Valentine’s song debuted on Instagram, some of you reading this have been single like a forgotten umbrella (no pressure!). Is there a distinction between a Hollywood romance and a Kenyan, Ugandan or Ethiopian romance?
“You know, for a Kenyan man sometimes, romance isn’t their thing. As long as they feed you and provide a home for you, then that is enough for them,” Moraa remarked in one of our interviews. For many who grew up dreaming of sweeping Hollywood romances like the story of Rose and Jack in Titanic, this starkly pragmatic view of love can feel less magical. The Cinderella story seems to be deeply etched into the psyches of many dreamers of love which often ends in disappointment (Surely, Priscilla, with your size 9 shoes, you aren’t still dreaming of a Cinderella story!). For men, appearing or needing to appear as the ultimate saviour and redeemer of the woman is palpable (guys, let’s be serious). So maybe love isn’t reckless falling but measured affection. It isn’t blind but practical, because if love is blind, how can two blind people lead each other? Surely, the only destination is a ditch! As the internet people say, “Dust will be constant!” if you fall recklessly. Maybe, just maybe, you should accept those kilos of rice and pineapples that man sends you this time.
The Red Party
And so, this journey through love’s highs and lows will find its grand finale at Alliance Française on Valentine’s Day from 4 pm with Moraa’s book launch at what has been dubbed The Red Party. “My poetry resonates with women in Kenya. I want to show that poetry doesn’t have to be wrapped in complicated language—it should be felt and understood,” she said.
This Valentine’s, the question isn’t whether love is worth it, but whether we are willing to embrace both its beauty and its chaos—because where there is passion, there is often pain.
Tracy Ochieng is a staff writer with Books in Africa. Email: tracy.ochieng@ekitabu.com
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