I am living in Kenya; A Tribute to David Munyakei


I am living in Kenya

I am living in a country where bribing is like passing gas
The cause of it, an indigestion caused by greed
Greed for more, easy, fast, meaty deals
The effect; silent, pungent air
Goldenly corrupt air,
I am living in a country that stinks and leaks of corrupting toxins,
I am living in Kenya.

I am living in a country where wrong has become right
And right has become wrong
Where just men are unjust but unjust men just
Justify to me how centrally placed banks,
Internally placed ranks and verbally misplaced dwarfs
Testified against the very existence of a fishy smell
Verified that they had a cold that blocked their nostrils
To the stench of a cancerous wound that ate from within the ranks to the top
A wound that has eaten up into
Lips that let its name out
Tongues that coil out its words
Hands that reincarnate its nature
From words to deeds
I am living in Kenya

I am living in a country where the only man whose nose,
Conscience, thoughts, breath were clean
A man whose morals, intentions were termed naïve
A child trapped in the body of an adult
A man who could still tell right from wrong
In this world where perverted thoughts reign
A man who gave up his life to live free of corruption
Only to lose everything to that same corruption
I am living in a country that killed its own son
The sun that shone the light of truth
To the dark filthy alleys of central bank
Like Ken Saro Wiwa, they hanged him
Hanged his reputation like a skinned cow’s hide
Humiliating him to cold floors for his truth
Hanged his name, on every media, courtroom
Awarding ceremony,
Putting their transparency on wood
His transparency on a piece of glass
Africa Kills her Son
Kenya Kills her Son,
David Sadera Munyakei

I am living in a country
Where we see a policeman shaking hands with a tout
We smell the stench of that cancerous wound again
Yet
We all have a cold, can’t smell it
Everywhere we turn
The filth is all over, invading like a swarm of bees
Chai, kitu kidogo are the new buzzwords
That we easily use .

Has Kenya killed all her sons?
Who like stones in a river,
Are not moved by the weight of murky waters
Nor their hardness softened by its slippery wetness
Did the spirit of David die with him?
Does his unmarked grave in Narok
Remain without a mark on our minds?
Our hearts or even our lips?

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In Memory of David Munyakei, A true Kenyan Hero, Africa’s Son
N W
kenyanpoet@gmail.com
Oct. 2007

This poem should not be reprinted, copied or divulged to third parties without the explicit permission from the Author – All rights reserved©

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