This week I had to combine powers with my fellow contributor Amneh who happens to be schooling in China and this is what came out of the teaming up. A poem about a girl who was always asked by her boyfriend why she liked going for walks around her neighborhood.
So dear boyfriend, you always asked me about those walks, this is what I gotta say.....
He asked me again,
“Why is it that you insist on going for these walks of
yours?”
For days now I had not the faintest idea of how to
tell him,
No way of knowing how he would react,
Too many reasons, so today I show him.
Show him what I see,
Show him how every little thing I see makes me feel,
How the streets I have lived in all my life now reveal
something in me I had yet to know,
Something I have always subconsciously known but
ignored to make me feel better
Today I unveil his blind eye.
Right around the corner of my house is a shanty little
house,
Mabati and nails is what held it up,
Inside lived young kids,
Their guardian no older than them of the age 15,
She sells ubuyu and karanga and an assortment of
sweets so she can support her siblings,
Abandoned by their parents who occasionally visit when
they aren’t shit faced with cheap alcohol and are broke,
I do not enjoy walking near their house as it fills me
with guilt and sadness,
Yet allows me the opportunity to buy some things from
them,
I do not understand what will make a father or mother
abandon their children and leave them to fend for themselves,
Especially in a city that is unkind to the young and
unprotected.
It is sad to see that there are a few out there who
care enough to want to do something,
Without any other intention other than selflessness
and the desire to see that kids like these are taken care of and shown another
way,
There truly are few who want to do something extra for
the neglected children,
Clear signs of repeated assault,
Written all over their little bodies,
Eyes glistening with pain and a yearning for warmth
and affection.
There are other young ones I meet with,
Ones who have been turned by this city,
Ones I understand and sympathize,
A child is as good as the home they are brought up in,
And these kids are brought up in the toughest homes,
Forced into the streets and made to comfort in its
darkness and the crucibles it offers,
Once
innocent and loving children with better future prospects
Now turned into street thieves and thugs,
Spewing abuse and insults as if second nature,
No fear, respect or remorse in their now darkened
hearts,
“Honey this is what I see on my little walks”
There is another sight that breaks me each time,
A woman,
No money or wealth to her name,
Working random vibaruas,
To put but a meal to her children’s little mouths,
A meal!
How much do you and I waste on a daily basis huh?
We waste and over-indulge whist there are others out
there,
Be it this woman, or the hundreds of street kids
scavenge and seek for a meal.
A woman struggles to feed her children,
The meal they have been looking forward to all day
A meal of scraps!
Honey let me show you love,
Look at that woman over there,
Do you see the man arguing and threatening he,
He is not the only one,
Abused by her customers on a daily basis claiming her
food
‘ina chumvi
nyingi’ or ‘chakula hakija iva’
All just to get a reduction of the price of food that
is sold at lower than profitable price.
A humble mama ntilie
Working day and night,
Sacrificing what little she has to be a food seller,
Just to make sure she has enough to pay the remaining
school fees,
And fix the over worn uniforms that have been handed
down by their other siblings,
Even as the men abuse and infuriate her, she remains
quite and waits for the money they finally pay her,
Now that is love, unrequited love only a mother has to
endure anything just to be able to send her children to school.
You ask me why I like going for walks,
This is it,
A reminder of the selfish and greedy person I am,
A reminder that I am not the best person I can be,
I am not the leader I thought I was,
I am not the worker I thought I was,
I am not the neighbour or patriot I pose as,
Nor am I the girl I make myself out to be,
For if I was,
none of my walks will be filled with hunger, sadness, abuse, neglect,
abandonment and burdens as they are.