The weatherman promised El Nino will come
He swore he'd envisioned it carry misery
So we let grand projects peacefully rest
And braced ourselves to welcome this evil guest
By budgeting much for healing the house of damage
Whilst its dependants to the ground sag.
Teachers had been out
chorusing their usual hymn--'solidarity forever'.
Decrying their inability to reach the ceiling
of rising economy
Whilst learners had been left experiment with condoms and drugs
To blow off the academic headache and cut thirst
As KNUT and KUPPET swear at the government
Crying that there's surely no dime for them
When something is there to satisfy greed!
The human mechanics sang the same song
and were nearly declared jobless!
They returned to the garages
to find their tools of trade missing
and helplessly watched clients drift into the past...
The government has conspired
with coffin makers and grave diggers
to soil feed us
and prey on our possessions!
We cry of terror looming
When foes threaten to strike
But our uniformed men ignore as mere childish games.
They loan arms to thugs, to steal in the neighbourhood
And retire to town for festivities;
Leaving the steel guards of our privacy unmanned
For Satan's angels to sneak in
And harvest our souls.
Who said our hunger-stricken children
seated on stones under trees
rain-beaten and sun-scorched
smile at the feeling of owning a scientific genius
which can't quieten their rumbling stomachs?
You need not burden us with luxury
whilst we're sagging under weight of basic inadequacies
Those on the pavement dream not of a concoction of diets
Till they secure surety of a meal regular.
An ogre seeks refuge under our roof
To evade the hunter's wrath
It had eaten his wealth and wife
But we refuse to let it pay for it's sins
Because it has our tribal marks--
If it's skinned, we are finished
But doesn't the fool who hides the ogre from angry mob
cry for help when the beast turns against him?
There aren't Samaritans in sight to come to his rescue!
El Nino will come, if the weatherman's tools didn't lie
And we'll be away carried by angry torrents
A fortune has been allocated for its unforeseen damage
But no dime's there to wipe woes whirling us to infinite obscurity
We'll not bathe with the Jubilee soap
If our stomachs are dirty
El Nino will come, and find us already weak in the knees
And we'll be away carried by angry torrents.
Then storms shall cool
to usher in another season of sowing;
Our prodigals shall return, their tongues sugar-coated
For a fresh bargain of our lives
We'll tear each other over their minute offers,
We'll fall for their follies: that you can't disown a kinsman for a wrong done.
We'll besiege the streets, singing their anthems till our voices grow hoarse
And sign our death sentence again
the morning we'll cast our seeds in thorns,
on rocks or along footpaths!
(c) wafula p'khisa
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