Prodigal Daughter

As the journey trickled down towards its end
Obuolo came to the Kajulu hills
And from the top of an aged boulder
He squinted at the sparkling city below.

Kisumu the city clung to the lake
Like debris washed ashore.
The window glasses and iron sheet roofs reflected the sun
Shining like sparkling splinters of broken glass
On a barefooted child’s path.

He would isolate her from the splinters
He would redeem her from this plastic existence
Where she peddles plastic love
Across plastic counters.

He would fish her out of the debris
Wash off her filth in the mighty lake
And carry her back to his home,
Her home.

From the top of the aged boulder
Atop the ageless Kajulu hills
Obuolo mopped his sweating brow
And set out for the city below.

©2013 Otiato Opali

Someone Take Me To Zimbabwe

Somebody take me to Zimbabwe

Down to the famed Matobo National Park
And up the Malindidzimu hill
I have unfinished business with two gentlemen resting there.

I don’t want to see the lions and giraffes -

We have plenty of those in Kenya.
Nor to marvel at how worthless the Zimbabwean Dollar is -
Is only machine-a-make money.

I want to stand atop two homosexuals’ graves

One Cecil Rhodes and his lover Starr Jameson.
I want to unzip my trouser and unsheathe my big African cork
I want to splash my urine on this century old tomb!

©2013 Otiato Opali.