Careless Whispers
I died, he died
When the bus to ghost town left us behind
I whistled when it started raining
He wept
I screamed at the top of my lungs every time my football team won a match
He drew thickets instead
And when our neighbours stole our jiko, he poured sewage water on their vegetables
I cheered on but took off as soon as the chief showed up
I laughed when he fell off the bicycle
Jeered him when he addressed the villagers
Put a caterpillar on his neck when he was asleep
When Atieno died, he moaned for me
Even though I despised her
And when he was choking on hot porridge, I offered him pepper
When my dignity faded, he lent me his
And when he told me that my kaba was nice, I kicked his manhood
Then one day he didn’t come back home, more nyoyo for me
And he didn’t come back on the second day either, and the day after that
Even after the maize was harvested
I was fat now and tired of the surplus food
And one day as I was cleaning out our shack, I came across his favourite T-shirt
I let out a subtle chuckle but my knees betrayed me
They trembled profusely so that I almost lost my footing
Suddenly overwhelmed, it dawned on me that the current had swept him away
That it unfolded right before my eyes, and that the bad spirits had summoned me at that very moment
Mayooooo! I had lost my mind to careless whispers.

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