Once in a while
I pass by the house
A sad and dilapidated affair
That used to be my house
A rented house
In the fringes of humanity
But a house all the same
Just to remind myself
Of how things used to be
Back then…
The house stands behind a tattered and sorry looking metal gate
It’s green paint peeling off
It’s noisy hinges grumbling with rue
Of better times
The house is a desolate thing
The cracked walls tries to hold it together
Trying to gather around it’s self the long and lost past
But with little success…
The roof is rusty and tired
The doors and windows are haggard
And devoid of life
They just hang in on there
Swinging with a stifled anger
And without any hope for better days ahead…
I shudder with a curious uneasiness
As I walk past the house
And I instantly recall
That this used to be
My abode
My home
My crib
My sanctuary
My state house
My white house
My dark house
The place where I used to rest my tired bones and soul
A one roomed shack sans piped water affair…
And oh boy
This shack is full of memories
Most bitter
Some grand
Others crazy
And few positive…
I still remember vividly
How I would lie awake
On my rickety bed
In some dark night
And listen silently
While the rain pelted down the poor tin roof
With a certain vengeance
And the harsh sound
Would lull me into uneasy sleep
And I would dream
Of grandeur
Of fame
Of wealth…
But the harsh sun
In the following morning
Would briskly rouse me
From my sweet dream world
With it’s burning heat rays
That would penetrate the weak and ancient tin roof
With a mighty determination
And bake my hapless spirit
To the ugly reality…
The plonk
That I used to slosh
Every other night
In the many dimly lit off license Shebeens
Never helped matters
I had thought I was drowning my sorrows
But the wily sorrows had learned how to swim to safety
And haunt and hunt me
The following day
And I was beleaguered with an ugly dread
When the cocks would announce
And with a certain vanity
The arrival of another morning
Unwanted morning
While I trudged warily
To the house
In the wee hours of the morning
Lonely and alone while lost in deep thoughts…
Ah.
The House….
Ayoub Mzee Mzima
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