WritAfrica

CLEAN THE SLUMS OF OBUNGA

I walk in the slams of obunga with eyes open,

I here the ground speaking before these people do 

The crunch of broken plastics under my feet,polythene papers,

The sigh of rotting heaps

The whisper of a river choking on what we forgot to care for

Me,a daughter of this soil

A son of the dust

A witness in a ward where waste has become a neighbour that overstayed its welcome

Loud

Smelly

Sickening

Yet somehow invisible to the ones who should see it first

Because they are one with us

The garbage

These garbage grow taller than promises here in obunga

Where trash sit like tombstones of neglect 

Where we hold our breath longer than our leaders hold there words

These effects pulls down even the toughest walls 

coz I have watched the walls of Kisumu breweries fade under the weight of waste 

I have watched obunga complex sag with the burden of everyone…

‘’not my problem’’

I have watched the river

Our river 

Turn from a source of life to a carrier of our carelessness,

A flowing graveyard of what we toss away 

Yet still

Mothers and daughters wash clothes in it

Children bath in it

Livestock drink from it

And somehow they say

‘’we are fine’’

Ama tuachie ‘’ SAJA’’

But we are not fine

We are surviving on borrowed breath,

On borrowed hope 

On borrowed time

Coz diseases hit us first as it spreads like wildfire

And what hurts and burn the most 

Is that solution stand in front of us

Like a closed door with the key stuck on the inside

FOR FLOCCA PROGRAM

A material recovery facility rose in pap mbuta 

Shinning like a promise curved in concrete

A building built to turn our mess into money 

Our waste into worth

Our struggle into steady jobs

A place meant to say,

“we can do better,we will do better’’

But reality is a truth never overshadowed 

For it stands there

Unopened 

Unused

Untouched

A silent monument to delayed action

A sleeping giant waiting for someone,

Anyone, to say,

“ wake up,we need you’’

And we really do

We need change louder than garbage trucks that never come 

We need accountability stronger than the stench rising from open dump

We need leaders who show up before the cameras do,

Who care more about our health than about headlines and news spotlights.

For we need a sustainable future 

where children in obunga and entire Kisumu grow up learning that water should be clean,

That air should be breathable,

That their neighbourhood is not a dumping ground 

But a living ,breathing home.

I’m angry ,and tired.

I’m mourning what we’ve lost

But I’m hopeful too for a better tomorrow though these voices living for the alpha generation.

Because hope is the only thing they haven’t managed to bury

Hope is the drumbeat in our chests 

The rhythm that keep us rising 

Hope is the whisper in the river that shouts

‘’clean me,and I will live again.’’

So this is not just cry 

This is a revolution wrapped in rhyme

This is a reminder that obunga deserves better

Not someday 

Not maybe

But now.

CHANGING THE MINDSET

LOUREEN ALMA.

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