Poetry

Wanjiku Wa Comba, My childhood friend and playmate, Do you still remember those days we played in the rain; Despite our parents’ efforts to keep us indoors? Do you remember us sliding on those muddy giant anthills? Do you remember…? That day we were taken ill with fever. Because we could not have enough of the hailstones, Our mvua ya mawe… Wanjiku Wa Comba, My childhood confidant, Do you still remember? How inseparable we were, How everyone kept wondering; Why we would never leave each other’s side? Yes Wanjiku, you the only one I told of the happenings at home. I knew my secret was safe with you, Unlike Kamau, Liz, Otieno and Chebet; Who would laugh out loud and tell the whole world what conspired. I miss these childhood moments, It feels like yesterday at times.   Not to forget teenage, Yeah, Young, wild and “free” I know you know what I mean, Our mothers putting us under scrutiny, A close eye like hawks, Always checking out for signs of morning sickness, Because they said times had changed, And the fear of the unknown…   Yes, and those very lengthy talks About why we should not be seen about toying with the village “boys” Yes Wanjiku, how we tried to hide our small boobs. And how it embarrassed us to see them pop up our dresses For the whole world to see!   And the glory we brought our village, For having produced the best girls to attend high school, And later the prestigious tertiary education albeit That the few men had managed to get never made any good use of it. But showing off in the local clubs.   So Wanjiku, After all these years of toiling, Working against all odds, I am happy to inform you, That it paid, I now own my kiosk Yes, I always wanted to be an entrepreneur, I am making a few dollars a day and I am happy, What did you make of your life? #written July 2014