(LOUD ULULATION)
Ululations echo, resonating within my soul
My heartbeat in sync with the hole in my sock
The result of the grating of gravel and toil
A plight that resembles extraction of oil
Boil! Boil! toil and trouble
I struggle to be set apart from the rubble
Defined by the coulour of my skin as charcoal or oil spill or ink from
a pen
In Africa lies my heart but not my head
Engrained in me as the red that courses through my veins
I’m insane in the membrane with these voices in my head
Of ancestors long gone who live on inside
Who teach me and raise me and patiently bide
Passing on wisdom through those alive and passed on
Like my dear Uncle Bukenya and this is his song:
Uncle Bukenya was driving back from the village, weary
It was late and his eyes were bleary
Blinking, blinking he kept his eyes on the dreary road
As the load of stress slipped of his shoulders and was lifted by the
breeze
SIGH
Glancing over to the side of the road, he noticed a beautiful lady
She caught his eye, with her shapely thighs and he pulled over his
Mercedes
Leaning over he grinned and asked her if she wanted a ride
She graciously accepted and climbed in, putting her feet to the side
Uncle Bukenya drove, conversed as his eyes caressed her
Enraptured by her beauty and with his eyes undressing her
He licked his lips and imagined what he would do to her
Time passed and Uncle Bukenya noticed she covered her legs
He asked her of it and the topic was changed
But curiosity was in his mind engrained
Uncle Bukenyaya got fed up and pulled up her skirt
He froze.
HOOVES! HOOVES! HOOVES!
SHE HAD HOOVES!
He stopped the car and threw her out
And since that day you can hear him shout
MUGABI EVERY TIME YOU SEE A PRETTY LADY
MAKE SURE TO LOOK AT HER FEET
