The sun in its splendor woke me up this morning
It pecked through my window
Sipped through the curtains
And caressed me awake.
Outside it’s a menace though
He must be angry with farmers, cattle keepers and green lovers.
Look at what he has done to the plains,
Eaten away all the grass
Burnt away all trees
Sucked away all water from springs
Mutara is all brown
Butare is dead, where it was alive
They say it’s a season
A dry season
A dry spell.
But I say that the sun is annoyed
And the wind has joined in the fight
Sweeping the hills clean
Stripping the top-soil off them
Don’t ask me what happened to the wind breakers- the trees.
They have long given up the fight; dry shameless wood standing.
Let me pray.
This standoff between man and nature must stop.
Let me hope against hope.
This dry spell will end soon.
Let me pray for the rain to remember me.
Me and my now green dry garden,
Me and Gaju my beautiful cow; He is thin and hungry.