1st Prize: Mary Kinyua, Machakos Girl’s High School

Life in Kenya by the year 2027

Beaten fair and square, I trudged up the hill
This was the end of the road
Below lay a pitiful sight
The chiselling man powerfully sweating
Clutching his stomach, a den of roaring lions
Emancipated with hunger and pain

This was where they smiled with the teeth
Their ice-cold eyes searching behind each other’s shadow
Shaking hands without their hearts
Their left hands searching each others empty pockets
Then the overloaded plane landed
With their dirty hands, with nails clogged with dirt
They searched through its contents
Whose prices were, more fascinating than the values
The labels more valued that the labelled
Then they sat back and wined and dined.

As the sun whirled on the azure sky at sunset
Clattering into the horizon and clicking in the slot
It’s when I paused and pondered and stopped and wondered
Perhaps the sight held within it some gleaming pearl
Some future majesty
So I gained wisdom and waited.

That night passed with passions high and wild
The streets stained with new potraits being framed
The wheel changed hands and new plans were filed
The morning saw the light anew

Men started laughing with their hearts and eyes
Mechanical handshakes long gone, they shook hands with their hearts
Their hands were immaculately clean
No dirt clogged in their nails
The trees exchanged greetings in gentle whispers of dawn
Plane and contents flew back, who needed them?
The morning glory climbed above my head
Down in the withered grasses something stirred
As I went down the hill with a radiant smile
For a new dawn had come
 

2nd Prize: Waithingira Gituro, Starehe Boys Centre and School

The Ebony Queen

I look back and see her
The most beautiful ebony queen ever
Fresh out of her bondage of adolescence
No blemish on her perfect skin
Her breasts are ripe
Ready to fill the mouths of her young ones
Her beautiful legs arms and eyes
Gracefully co-ordinate each other; the work of an active brain
Her admirable behaviour appeals to many
Draws them to her and makes them pay attention
To what she says and does
And even invest in her for she
Is a bag of gold
To those who desire to exploit her

I look at her now
And I stutter.
The once unblemished skin
Has been eroded and has blotches of colour
Her breasts sag loosely like a withered passion fruit on a tree
Unable to even strain and produce
A millimetre of milk for her young
Her legs, arms and eyes lack co-ordination
They topple over each other
It is as if the brain has been permanently damaged!
And her behaviour?
Oh my!
She parades herself around
And allows herself to be exploited
Unfairly.
Unceasingly.
She doesn’t care except for the mandatory cup of tea
That must be produced before she is exploited
Truly  “Rape of the fair land”?
Many have lost interest in her
For she is like a lioness that has lost it’s pride
And now writhes in it’s own defecation!
Dear me!

And I look ahead
Into the uncertainty of the future
At first I see her; a dilapidated creature
Her skin has lost its allure
Her eyes lack water
She limps and hangs her head shamefully
Her breasts are dry and her children are dying out
Nobody wants her; to exploit her resources
Nobody loves her
Every body has fled from her
She is a shame even to herself
The difference between her
And a hyena is that
A hyena is better looking!
And I see her once more; a bubbling bursting figure
She dances and sings with the wind
Her skin glows in the sun – unblemished
Her eyes shine with joy and laughter
Her breasts are full and her young ones thrive
Everybody wants her
Everybody loves her
And she, she dances merrily
Because she knows she is beautiful
That is her pride

But you see, there is a catch
Because there are two pairs of foot prints
One leading to the dilapidated girl
The other to the bubbling youth
For you see, the girl is Kenya
And the foot prints the decisions we have to make
Now and in the future
 

Third Prize: Dan N. Hongo

Life in Kenya in the year 2027

In the beginning was the ‘Union Jack’,
He declared her to be in the dark,
And brought with him a thick mist, his trade mark
In the name of light, he defiled her.

Then emerged the ‘beaked one’ with his glory
He promised to crow so that the sun would rise
To disperse the thick mist that covered her
But only the moon rose when he did
And he plundered her under the cover of the mist
To the point of despair.

I peep into the fortune teller’s ball,
Behold, I see the torchbearer approaching
Behind him he leads the rising sun
In his hands he holds the suns gift: a rainbow, to present to her
With him he arrays the balm
To sooth her wounds and restore her hope.

Excited, I consult the horoscope and wham! I see it all
I see her robust in the warm rays of the rising sun
Oh! I see her clothed green with prosperity
And has forgotten her rape by the two
With juvenile simplicity I grip firmly on this vision
With the steel claws of expectation

I view the dawn of 2027, on the distant horizon of the near future
At the back of my mind I see her secure
Her children recovered from the thick mist and given work
I see the sceptre of justice on her right
And the hat of education on her head
And death fleeing at the sight of her
Her attire of gold and silver