THE SON OF THE SOIL

I used to see him

Off to school every morning.

Bare foot,

Emaciated body

In patched uniforms.

Trying moments

All the way to achievement.

The son of the soil.

I have this big issue.

The humble respectful boy I knew

Is no more.

What is a miss? I am to learn.

Friendly hands stretching at every person,

Tilling the shamba,

Washing dishes,

Feeding goats

Now a whip.

He slapped me yesterday instead of a greeting!

Talented legs

In running, football

Walking all the way to grandmothers'

Across the hill and back

Now a dangerous weapon.

The mother is crying.

He kicked her yesterday!

Great words from his mouth long gone history.

Public abuse system a better replacement.

Hate speeches encouraging ethnicity

A constant in his gattherings.

No more wisdom in the head.

Former intellect

Now a fool.

Comparison to an industrial atomic bomb.

Destroying anything, anybody, anytime it is disturbed!

Looming estates

Neighboring our old rugged hurts

A product of embezzlements from

Development funds,

Land grabs,

Donation kitties

And grants.

 His former school almost going down.

Same structures

Since his study period.

Can't forget to direct one lorry of cement

Or two of sand

Of the ten that serve his projects!

Perhaps classrooms will get repaired.

Living on borrowed time every minute.

No spending with impoverished villagers.

Better a broad for

Esteemed,

Deserved,

Classy

Holidays.

That is

The son of the soil!