By Waceke (21STARS)
He was the son, beloved son
Everything that the young people admired
His sense of style and body oozed everyone towards him
To the oldies, he was the son they wished for
He was the urban definition of starting from the bottom.
He was from a lineage of struggle and pain
He thoroughly campaigned amongst my uncle for a hand in marriage
He was perfect in their eyes
He was our loaded generational hope
A sweet tooth of lies
A confident lying lion
He was hailed in praise each time he set foot in our village
When his first wife called to warn me
We pretended not to understand what she meant
We were the 21st century Israelites who had smeared blood on our doors
We pretended to live in a different world
The elders could not question the handsome son when the rock started cracking
I could not elope, and the elders could not chase him away
He was our 21st century messiah
He was to free us from the shackles of poverty
Free us from shackles of pain, something my four brother- in-laws could never do
He was to upgrade our community bicycles
Free us from a community of trauma
He was to save and solve our problems in a heartbeat
But years later
Old age has joined the higher realm
We are still Waiting for change
Drunk on his expensive liquor
Cussing him out sometimes
Frustrated with regrets
He was to feed us with pastries that the rest could not afford
He believed that we could build a lineage free from trauma and pain
We are still in the wildness going round and round the mountain
