It was around 1987, after M7
Had taken over power, around 7pm,
At first it was UPM, then NRA before NRM,
Or MK..Muwulila Kati…
We moved, through thickets of banana,
Plantations, like that of Kabuguga,
Down Omumanure, via Rweibare Church,
That stood so lonely at night,
A flicker of paraffin filled tin-light,
Could be seen via reeds-dotted Catechist
House..
A small puppy begun to bark, endlessly…
We moved, through Mzee Damianos’
Neighborhood,
And passed nearby Rweibare Primary school,
And sojourned to Mzee Mukoonas’ home,
When and while he gave away his daughter…she teardroped endlessly,
All in the name of kuvumba disco…
Yes, none stop disco
Like a fiasco.
The first record was local,
“ Kamadirisa, omukazi wo’ mukabira “
We grooved and waited to shoot…
Then there was music muzuri..
Or something like that…
A young boy, with big teeth, released bad gas,
Must have had lots of meat with bushera..
That local brew, that detests branch …
We spread apart, holding our breaths..
And noses, cursing endlessly,
But chanced on Kyankazi,
The girl with good legs of a mukazi..
Aishi…
At 4am, we hit the marram,
To escape the early rays of the morning sun,
But encountered, deep in the plantation,
The bare-butt night dancer,
Of Rwebishekye,
Kafiti, the Village Wag,
Exposed him with a flash torch!
ON THE PULPIT