Twebaka Tuulo

I

The Men in power have guns:

If you have none, you’d better run;

else bang-bang,

they’ll shoot you down.

Forget about doing your country the service,

of minding the quality of public service:

for your labours you’ll receive such reward;

anatomical liquidation-

or worse, economic strangulation.

The Men in power have guns,

And long have they sold all conscience to the wind:

They’ve got your money on their mind,

and should you think of changing kings:

they will not hesitate,

to shoot you down...

                        II

I heard a tale of a man who cried foul,

because a big-eyed upstart jumped the cue.

But when came his turn to be The Man,

and The Man in power would not budge.

Our man became an upstart too,

caught a bad case of the joker,

and bought himself a conscience transplant.

With his wily bag of cards in tow,

he sought asylum in the plotters’ garden,

And now they hail him as a hero-

them whose struggle his webs entangled;

“he’s got miles of road sitting in his coffers”

“he will make The Man lose sleep at night”

Never mind that his miles cost taxpayers their due,

politicians have only interests, not sides;

But I pay them no mind, for I sleep light;

the economy is tight-

and I simply can’t afford to sleep at night.

III

I heard a voice on the radio say,

“the problem with this country,

is that the people are too docile,”

I found him funny...

Guns and votes are costly things to buy you know;

and if The Man does not have his guns,

the taxlady will cut you no slack;

when her hounds come pounding at your door,

then we shall see if you will sleep at night.

“Ugandans must wake up from their slumber;

they must reclaim their country from thugs”

Of what slumber does he speak...

Abantu tebakya komba yadde mpeke ya tuulo

Basula bayiya.... embera mbi!

Gwe ob'olina obudde bw’okunyigira abasajja

abalina emunddu nga emitima gyaffa dda,

kwatamu ko. Tokomba passi.

Your anger cannot stop their bullets,

so stay sharp and play it smart.

Maybe someday, 

your heart will change this place...

2015

The Place Where The Sun Shines

The country has fallen to the hyenas:

Basic needs ail from jobless weeks,

As youths without connections slim.

Workers survive on loans and alms,

As public servants puff up on bribes.

Villainy has toppled the state,

And restraint abdicated parliament;

The national treasury is a bonanza,

And allegiance is to your tummy,

In this country..

In this country,

Ambition is no field for common benefit;

It’s a ring crammed with vicious canines,

Where deep bites reap fleshy rewards,

And the boldest heists lift entire clans.

Lawlessness is the Law in this country,

And nothing is sacred-

Not the cherished altars to foreign gods,

Or the unsung temples of yester gods.

Leadership is dead,

And the nation is spent of tears to wail.

In this country,

Teachers pretend to teach,

As students pretend to learn.

Extortion suffocates enterprise,

Like a fat woman sitting on a baby’s nose;

For money is rare as snowflakes in sand,

So the simplest solutions die in wombs,

While the best thieves gain prestige.

Alas, the sun still shines,

And the gods still don’t smile.

Great minds flee the borders,

But the goats still eat grass,

And the cocks still crow,

And the Hippos still yawn:

And the fish still stare,

As rulers fatten on the nation’s hope,

And fear pollutes the air with apathy,

              ..........in this country

2015

In Stasis

In the silence between ringing static,

Where all thought and feeling is mute;

There drifted pieces of our splintered sun,

Suspended in a sea of stoic stillness...

We looked up, we whose feet scratched this earth;

Feigning divine mechanics in the arching of necks,

Arms flailing like leafless branches swaying in wind,

As shafts of lightning and thundering claps

Crowded our sky with dark, damning clouds.

In the cold of our stasis, death’s breath was warm,

And the million eyed monster that haunted our dreams,

Was but a puppy yapping in a void of confounding darkness.

The world was a dog spinning on its tail;

And we the fur bristling on its coat,

Registered static panic with jaws jarred ajar-

Oblivious to the signs punctuating our fears,

That something unseen was growing in our midst.

2015

An Era's End

Once we walked on earth carpeted with gold;

sat round breathing fires that lit away the cold,

where hot whispers of moments come to fold,

spread tales of winds grown stale with age.

Then came a day for the turning of the page,

when our house would rise hissing in flames

at the hands of alien bandits aided by our kin...

Winds stand still on the back of flapping flames,

as forests faint at the decimation of their lings.

Mountains double in pain at the passing of sanity,

as invisible hordes of numb faces

witness the unfolding of our demise.

Now here in the ashes of this, our final hour,

stand we of the nacred tongue- helpless, forlorn;

watching in sunken silence-

the festivity of fools clowning on sacred ground.

2015