Written by Henry Mworia
The stranger who rolls from the North
Swallowing senselessly in one foul swoop
Sweeping everyone along her path,
Do you hear her voice at night?
When she seduces the young men,
Enticing them with the words of old,
Speaking in the most sensuous native tongue,
Would you listen to her stirring voice?
The mothers in her jaws weep,
Crying for the babies in her bottomless pit,
The babies abandoned sing in unison
Suckling dry the last of the gun powder.
The men cry like the toddlers they lost
In the dark of her hair,
They shed and shout and sound sickening
At the wake of her flight.
The animals ejected in uniform ejaculation
They hear the music in passing
As they scramble up and down the valley
Their feet paint not, their destination moot.
She moves manically making many immobile,
Every house she dances in lights up,
Every eye she captures births tears or smoke,
The choice of the viewer who listens not.
Their heads spit on her dance
and heavy metal start to play
but even as shells slither along
Her dance stays uncaged for chaos to fine tune.
For men to battle over bulls
where bulls should fight for men,
For children to catch flying metals
where metals should never meet children.
They say it takes two to tango
But tango is not a dance for all
Perhaps they should teach twist
That tomorrow’s dance shall take no toes.
-This poem discusses the current streak of cattle rustling that rages in the North Rift region in Kenya that has seen the loss of hundreds, if not thousands of lives. The poem uses imagery to paint a picture of the gravity of issues pertaining the cattle rustling – the killings of innocent children, men and women, the stealing of cattle which is the livelihood upon which the citizens depend on and the oathing processes used to recruit the raiders.
Text © Henry Mworia
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I didn’t think that’s what the poem was about.
I couldn’t stop reading. Powerful imagery and wordage.