February 9, 2014

There is an air of despair
A thick lingering cloud
Of hopelessness

An amen to whatever life brings
Or takes

This air tinged with dull disco lights
Mingles with music too loud
The smell of spirits
And cheap cigarettes

Its like a thousand blankets
Spread above this night sky
In Kondele
And under it
Where we sit
Nibbling bits of roast meat
A hot, pasty air hangs
Fills and clogs the lungs
For so long
You forget if ever
Fresh air did exist

With young girls
Parading in minis
And worn heels
To get a shilling or two
From the drooling bodaboda men
This place
Is full of contented poverty-
The missing all the good things
And feeling no loss

It’s life sucking to watch
A people cruising through a life
So full of indifference
That being dead and living
Are one and the same thing


 *KONDELE – pronounced (CON-DEH-LEH)-a major center in Kisumu Town

Made of Sand
Not Dura, but Alaminadura

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