Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Reflections 2013




Namanga is a very very small town that could easily swallow you up in its own small social politics  then vomit you through its congested exists.
But in the news: East African community market, big business coming our way. Oh yeah and the perpetual hostility just below the skin?

So everyone is selling off.
Plots and wasteland.
 And the local club is moving further inland and the wildlife running away, dying.
But we have the animal protection in patrol.
While the white rocks; where do the white rocks end up?
 The soil for the roads- yea yea- we’ve seen the trucks.. ah so much soil Mr. Chin, but the rocks? And beneath the white rock?

And  they  peep and whisper as I pass .
“Eva,” they respond to my “soba.”
I wonder which Bantu doesn’t cal nyau nyau.  I mean cat, cat. so they now call it pepo and they watch me closely, and I wonder where nyau got  bruises on his head and I wanna just shake my fist at someone, but I would rather not. 2 years . 2 years is not a long time. Maybe my next home will have a balcony, and less Bantu.

No comments:

Post a Comment