Muviki, listen
Words don’t grow on trees I tell you
He whose tree bore a natural beauty
Skin so smooth, a banana tree trunk
Eyes, the moon gets its light from therein
Body shaped like the brown gourd, home of the ‘karubu’
To him pour this my cup

Muviki set your nets to catch this
That I, son of the village horn
I alone hold the keys to the goat house
Home…
Where chicken greet visitors by the big ‘muuku’ tree
I,
I only know where the cows can fish for grass
Know where they can hunt for clean water
I, draw water from the sun!

Muviki, please don’t let the dogs roast your antelope
The one that your father tested his ‘utumia’ by
Travelled far and wide, and then waited for its horns to curl!
But, let your feet wade on ‘kyaa’
And your fingers ache with white milk
Then sit down on the three legged stool and enjoy
As the meat flows in your human river

Muviki, words don’t grow on trees
Listen.

© vinn | blog |

Image Via