THE IMMORAL GUEST STOLE MY UGANDA
by PENDIE WASSWA on 14/07/2014 in AFRICAN STORIES
He came in the night on his mother’s back
Like a ghost swept beyond the dead,
Escaping to my homestead for shelter
Skinny, thirsty and haggard, I fed them.
In the morning, full to the brim, he fought our husbands,
Death, we mourned, has befallen thee
We cried, we still cry
Shame, he blurted, is the fate of the weaklings.
With food in his rotten grumbling belly, he conquered my homestead.
From his rear, he passed a poisonous gas
It stunk of contagious poverty, greed and corruption
Some called it peace, others a revolution
Our men dead, our children hungry, with a handful of women too frail to cultivate our lands
We relied on the guest
He played the mind game
He glared at us assuring us of his priceless security
I bring peace; you can sleep while I burgle you
We grinned from ear to ear
While we slept, he dismantled our homesteads, our kingdoms, our rights
Yes, I have brought you peace.
What more did we want?
Little did we know
That the guest was here to stay
He shipped his clan from afar
We welcomed them as culture teaches us
Now they roam my village, they are in charge, they are his allies
Hardship is for the host
Our elected elders in big offices are lessened to begging
They sell their souls in exchange for brown envelopes
The guest throws his leftovers at them, they gladly lick his plate
We still thank the guest for bringing peace
We are stupid
The immoral guest has corrupted our men, our women and children with his infectious stench
For while we slept, the immoral guest stole my Uganda.