The sugarcane plantation fiasco

In 1988, there, down in Karyeza valley,

Lived Zaaki, the man..

Loved and loathed for his sweat,

Every moonlight season,

We had no reason,

Not to tiptoe to his sugarcane garden.

To avade the marauding sharks,

He hanged dead frogs and toads,

In his environs,

So we could fear the spell,

That was about to befall…

Every moonlight fall!

We met with Forte,

And agreed to relocate not in Fort,

Unfortunately..

But forged a route to the plantation,

That noon,

Till the moon was high in the sky..

We were shy,

Walayi..

Sugarcanes, a wierd marvel,

As we craned, like Crested Crane,

Dancing that Ntuuwa Ntuuha song,

Like this lady Among.

Every turn is a slay, terrible cut,

So we stayed close, to avoid thier wrath!

To which i loathed,

But begged not to relent,

It was lent,

And, unlike Nyege Nyege had no tent.

Alas the while!

As the eyes met,

Then the crack,

Cha cha cha chaaaa…

It was Zaaki,

On his patrol..

Like Kafiti, the village Wag