DEAR MR.LEADER

I SAW THEM STRUGGLE
I saw them struggle;
A view from my window before the sun fully set
I saw people fold their trousers as they left their compounds
Ready to walk for miles to work.

I saw them struggle;
In those wee hours I saw people, women, and make dough mixtures later to be fried and sold as
A families only meal, as a child’s break as a manual laborers only source of energy

I saw them struggle;
As I left for work I saw a man in that early morning persuading people to use the public bus, bargaining prices
In the traffic I saw them smiling at your window trying to sell peanuts and newspapers.

I saw them struggle;
I saw people carry heavy sacks of farm produce to be sold at the shop near you and I,
I saw young children strapped on their mothers back sharing the back space with smaller sacks of vegetables
I saw young men with carts push and pull heavy luggage just arrived,
Sweating profusely as though they had been running in the Kalahari

I saw them struggle;
I saw motorbike and bike riders staring at pedestrians hoping that one of them would get weary and opt for a ride
I saw the young school children half running half walking stealing glances at the city clock just so they do not get late
Having to walk many miles to the only free public school near them,

I saw them struggle;
I saw policemen stop a car in the middle of the night and find fault just so their families would have breakfast
I saw artists performing in open bars, braving the cold, rowdy crowd and poor sound
I saw journalists beaten and roughed up unearthing true corruption stories

I saw them struggle;
I saw the girl raise her skirt above her thighs for fifty shillings, less than a dollar
Just so her ailing mother wouldn’t die from lack of drugs and food
I saw women wait outside peoples houses to do your laundry and dishes to get little for there little ones and drunk husbands

I saw the struggle;
I saw young men full learned
Sit on stones all day under the hot sun in town waiting for a job
Go back home twice as hopeless as they come to the city

I saw them struggle;
In my own home
My own democratic home land
The pain and pinch of calling it a democratic and independent state is unbearable
The sadness of having to stare at black and white distinction between the rich and poor
The anger of staring at unconcerned shepherds of my homelands herd
The disgust of watching them magnify the death of an account over deaths of many souls
The shame of hearing you say you shall build us morgs while hospitals don’t exist
The hatred inside keeps me reminding me of colonialism I never lived through but I live in

More pain I get at the thought that my children ant their children will study you in history as a hero
You shall remain unacknowledged in the real human race as long as irrationality and stupidity rule you mind
Was I rude?
Sorry but I saw them struggle

I saw them struggle;
I did see them struggle
Struggle I saw them do,