Post-Communal Urban Palava

Kangsen Feka Wakai

At nighttime, they cast diabolic spells along
The seedy concrete boulevards
That line Pothole Avenue.
They sleep to a soundtrack of their snores.
Theirs is a universe of forgotten cosmologies
Where they imbibe the fragments of discarded beliefs.
They desecrate the glyphs of disbanded nomads; instigate the profane
And turn neighbor against neighbor like untrained pit bull dogs.
Bloodied graffiti on the fragile walls in Kibera slums
Odinga sleeps to a soundtrack of Kibaki’s snore.

Rage is blind, anger untamed.
Bottom-feeders sing to different tunes from the same orchestra.
Shortsighted palavas!
Antiquated hatred!
Fabricated hatred!
Amateur Kasparovs fold their arms as Mathare goes up in flames.
Their lips remain glued in the face of rupturing bonds
And forgotten friendships.
Robotic mimics. 
Neo-liberal mimes. 
Post-modern compradors. 
Middlemen.
Kibaki sleeps to the soundtrack of Odinga’s snore.
In deed, it is Not Yet Uhuru!
Panga should be used for a sacrificial goat on Kimathi’s tomb.
Moi’s Kenya needs cleansing. 
Kimathi’s Kenya will thrive…