Finally, the fiery sun kisses the distant hills goodbye and dips its anger into the dark African horizon.
Dusk swiftly gathers courage and drapes the vast land with silhoutted aspirations.
Thin dust swirls gently, suffocating nascent dreams.
We tredge wearily upon the beaten path on our way to the shebeen, after a long day in the fields.
We will have beer.
It is already dark in the shebeen.
Weak light weakly greets our tired faces.
I can see Kaka already inebriated, imbibing his very own soul.
Gladly we find rickety stools and quickly down the first glass of cold joy. The liqour hits the right note and a little fire warms yesterday’s promise deep in the breast.
Dada is talking. She’s always complaining about something or other.
I request for her a glass of purchased joy to keep her quiet.
She won’t keep quiet. She is telling all and sundry about her teenage daughter who is pregnant and out of school.
We will talk tomorrow.
Kaka tells her.
We will drink beer.
The moon is up early. Her shadows eerie.
Her light silvery, whispering our denials in perpetual hues.
Another glass please. The old broken radio keeps on playing the same old broken song but no one cares. We came to take beer.
We have learnt to live with these things.
We will take beer.
Each one of us here has a story to tell, a tale to tell and the alcohol is an exellent listener in silent amusement. Musembi has started singing. It is time to go home. The beer doesn’t have a teacher. I won’t be her pupil either. We have taken beer.
Slowly we gather our tired bones but merry at heart and find our way home. Moonlight shines the beaten path, again, for us. Mjomba is dancing but he has to be careful lest he falls down on these shrubs by the footpath.
We sing about tomorrow’s hopes and promises.
We sing about a prosperous future.
It has been a good day.
Haven’t we taken beer?
© 2012 Ayoub Mzee
Ayoub Mzee Mzima
poetrytales 