Norman Mwale [The PenPusher]
We no more watch and enjoy counting
The stars in the sky
Even the slowly drifting clouds and
Their various amusing shapes,
Or watch the goats fighting in the
Open pastures,
They have brought into our village
This rectangular box like thing we haven’t
Seen before in our domain
With humans inside, talking a language
They used to talk during the time of war,
They kiss publically even when we are
Seated with our inlaws,
Sometimes they fight discourteously
With dangerous objects
And bare fists there inside that thing
And killing each other!
Sometimes l or your father throw a dark
Cloth in its face to avoid seeing the
Rivers of human blood and tears,
But what worries me is that these people
Don’t even greet or talk to us,
They just do whatever they want in our
House, imagine!
If they continue like this we may desert
Home and l don’t know for where!
Is what l am telling you my son, my
Daughter!
Our scotch cart is of little or no use at
All,
They have banished our trodden paths,
Neither donkeys nor cattle hooves are
Still visible in our dust
No more striking sounds of the whip
That used to sing melodiously in the sky,
They have brought a thing with four legs
That moves on the grey surface and
Which sidestepped our dust paths,
When your younger brother and sister
Hear its roar they run home petrified
And weeping
So they have come to dislike that thing
A great deal, especially when it
Splushes muddied water on their robes
And when your father sees it approaching
He runs off the grey surfaces and
Stumbles
On the edge as it exhales black choking
Soot in his face and leaves him rubbing
His itching eyes.
Our mountain, where we conferred, were
Leveled and swallowed by development,
They built a huge place where l see man
And women walking in and out like
Precipitous ants, wearing the same
Clothes written the same thing on the
Back and working for a wage!
Is what l am telling you my son, my
Daughter!
And currently, l don’t even know where
Your foot impressions will be written!
Do you still remember that our river,
Where we used to go catch the ‘Dondolo‘?
They girded it with steel wire and
Put something inside that consumes
Overmuch water and vomits it in their
Farms,
That thing looks like our African python,
It is very long, but does not have eyes
Or move unless your brother shifts it to
Spue on other dry areas, but just
For staggering earnings!
This is what we are experiencing back
Home!
May you come home before this sunset
And you see what l am talking about
Because l am worried on their next
Prompts!
May you write me back soon as you read
This my drooping letter!
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