I sing not Kibera

I sing not this infamous slum

That is constantly topical

For crime, poverty, calamities

That characterise daily routine.  

 Tension mounts

In your mud-walled falling hut

When dogs bark out,

And you hide under the bed

For slightest knocks on door.

People are socialised

To live like social animals they are;

Yet, no one is safe,

Even with their selves.

They wake up for today only

Not knowing what may befall;

Whether floods or bullets or gangsters,

Life still clings on same unwavering fetters.

I sing not for the open sewerages

That adorns people’s compounds.

The flying toilets, and a little fuss

That peculiarises daily life

The government assures its people

Yet the people live a downcast life,

A life that they borrow

And lenders sit tightly on their necks

I sing not Kibera,

Because there is nothing to sing

There is poverty to mourn,

There is neglect to pity,

There is crime to fear,

Yet, where can one run to

When the pockets snugly restrain them?

Eric Lungai