By Kenny Olembo

Image via nationalgeographic.com

removed the thermostats,
And made us pay for every cup of water we used,

I was standing in the rain,
With a white friend and a Servant.

We marveled at the homemade architecture,
Hopped the rivulets of grime,
And heaved big sighs.

I asked him why there were,
Water tanks with signs that read,
Twenty shillings a litre.

He said,
They sell water here too.

Scottish men protect,
Single malt whiskey,
Welsh women,
The language they speak,

My Palestinian friend once told me,
Water,
Israelis keep.

  • http://michael.co.ke Michael

    I like the desperateness of this particular poem. It’s odd you had to go as far as Israel when water is a scarcity in our very own Turkana but I like how you took us there. Reminds me of the We Teach Life poem, just a lot less, angry.