Yesterday, I woke up to a chilly Naalya day,
As I took a short walk down the valley..
Reminiscent of the childhood fight
Down in Karyeza Valley and meadows..
Every Thursday, was a market day,
Where boys waylaid girls, in Bwizi,
And cycled them away,
Willingly, under arranged marriage,
Known as Kuhampura…
It occurred even in Rwampara,
Deep down in Mbarara..
We loved
it as we ate
meat,
In all forms, some hairy,
Some needed a haircut!
That market day,
Five men upon selling thier herd,
Took some local brew, Tonto,
That made them Zonto, tontomera
As they set against the four,
On opposite side, all with heavy sticks,
Sticks of Omuzo specie, that never breaks!
First, the tallest stretched wide,
After spitting aside,
Some sooty slime, in disgust,
Then he swore by the grave of his father,
Then his Bull, Rutsiina,
Then another, a short stout,
Shouted loud,
As though reaching for the clouds
Instead attracting the crowds!
Swearing to revenge for his brother..
As though arranged, the other started
To rebuff, as the tallest Mulefu,
Jumped high and high,
As though incensed by the evil spirit,
Then the other with a bold head,
Scratched his behind,
In bazzare mood and style to incense ..
Name calling the others as mere waste!
Then the fight begun, with the teams
Pairing
up!
Suddenly, the sound of whizzing sticks,
Took to the air, fear engulfing the crowd..
Blood and screams of defiance,
And courage took to the stage..
Then people gathered and cheered,
As shrieks and screams endured,
That muddy afternoon!
Again with Kafiti the Village Wag!
