My friend lived pompously,
Took all the pleasures this life can offer
He blew his own trumpet,
Perhaps a thousand times a day
That it is because of his wits
That he eats life with a big spoon
My friend took the city as his home
Where his biero was buried
And his own home
As the historical forest
Of the men who came ahead of us
My friend paid rent of fifty-thousand
In the city
And cruised around in a sleek silent Benz
He drank royal wine
Akin to how we drink that water
From my great-grandfather’s kulo
My friend was stunned
When death, like a midnight robber,
Snatched his wife away from him
So, like the man he was,
The great kiongozi that he was,
Behind his tail tagged a million acquaintances
To help him send his beloved to oblivion
Murmurs and whispers,
Laughter and gossips
Jeers and sneers
Pervaded the air upon the realization
That he had a nest for a house
And a gunda for a home
When the unceremonious rain fell,
His visitors scampered like troubled rats
To his mother’s cave for a house
They wished to have remained outside
So, when the burial had ended,
My friend had doubly suffered;
Pain of his loss
And the pain of his humiliation
My friend had learned;
The tiny things the city maniacs take for granted
Are indeed the huge things-
That hold the pride of a man
* Biero – umbilical cord
* Kulo – borehole
* Kiongozi -used informally (leader)
* Gunda – deserted place
©The Untamed Ink
©️: BAM CARES Artmore, Poetry Group
Founder: Bettie Atemo
Email: atemob21@gmail.com
Facebook page: BAM CARES Artmore
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