We grew up while still young,
As dogs, goats, cows and sheep,
Became part of the journey so deep and steep,
Even while asleep…
Albeit so deep..
One day, we climbed our cow Kyasha,
On the back, till it threw us out,
As we turned to Gaaju,
The brown cow with long horns..
Every, of its step, rhymed with its head,
Heading down to Karyeza valley…
To the clay-made water trough.
It was tough..
Our hounds were more fun and funny,
Like Runa, the black
dog,
That allowed us on its back, barking,
Till it sat, down composed, resignedly..
We chased and played hide and seek,
With Kakwitsi, till we tired up,
Panting and sweating profusely,
He even knew how to spur and dance!
Dog-smiling all the time, while salivating…
Kamugyene, grandson of Kasimoni..
His dotted and marked face,
A sign of heritage rotundity..
He danced as though springing up and down, his body, fixed in one place,
Smiling endlessly….
He smoked often, while blinking one eye,
And closing the other,
Every fortnight, we woke up at 5am,
While the moon was up in the sky,
Hyenas dancing behind anti hills,
These anthills of Savanna,
To hunt for wild rabbits…
Poor rabbits,
Animals of no clear habit,
Albeit we knew thier habitat..
Every time, we lost the hunt,
Kamugyene, was on the spot,
His bow-legs often allowing rabbits,
To escape upon being cornered…
We exercised,
Again with Kafiti the Village Wag,
Waguan, Waguan..
ON THE PULPIT