Moving him through the banana plantation,
Behind grandpas’ old mud house,
They pushed, shovelled his hind head,
Swaying him upfront,
Squandering his legs, and spirit,
To confront his disconfort,
Like a lion, accosting Rugondo, the bull,
Rubombo’s only long-horned bull!
When the parade and match was done,
The commander pulled the trigger,
All four barrels pointing at him,
Trembling, trousers shaking,
My mind went blank…
As sweat ran through the veins
It was darkness at noon!
Grandma, rolled on the ground,
Removing the tiny cloth,
She wore and tied across her waist,
To hold her life, tired of these hiccups..
Some coins fell,
In that dusty hot afteroon..
