It’s as if I have held you in my arms In this, your short life, But someone snatched you from me Because I wanted you to see the sun I wanted you to hold the dream And not to chase the wind Like a baton wielding policeman
When They Die Young(title taken from Levi Kabwato’s short story) inspired by Aaron Ufumeli’s picture in Newsday Poem by Ethel Kabwato
I wanted you to keep the faith And the trust deep in your heart And see your tomorrows laid out Before you because you were the future …and not dice with death like the touts Whose lives have become a breeding ground for corruption, illicit drink and marijuana Maybe I thought I held you, My brief candle, in my hands But someone sold their souls To the devil for 20 dollars And you, in your innocence Thought the baton stick Was meant to protect you From thieves and murderers You, with the trust in your heart Thought the driver was there To carry you to a place Far, far away from the madding crowd At corner Chinhoyi and Kwame Nkurumah street We have been there too, son, We can’t say we’ve seen it all… Long after we have lowered Your lifeless body six feet down Another bribe will change hands, As we seek justification for smashed windscreens Maybe someone’s mother Will not live to see Mother’s day Because, sonny, we are no longer safe On our roads Someone has robbed you off The beauty of not seeing The day of the African child. Eight days after Independence, sonny, After all the speeches have been made, After being reminded of the wars You didn’t fight And of the freedom You, a born free Should be grateful for You thought you had it all, You stepped out in an empowered style On a road named after the father Of African unity (…how could I warn you son, that there are those among us who think they own the streets and the pavements…) …how could I warn you, as they snatched Your little life that no one cares? …how could I tell you that On the indigenized streets of Harare What belongs to Caesar is not Caesar’s? Someone sold his soul to the devil To snatch yours… Like those taken before you… You remain without a name… Rest in peace, son.
Ethel Irene Kabwato (24.04.14)
