The Village Photographer

He proudly struts around
While riding his multicoloured bicycle
A two legged metal thing
With a rickety seat
Around the the village foot paths
Scavenging for a quick business
Almost forgot
He is a true dandy
Always dressed to impress
And blessed with a gift of garb too
The village photographer

How he makes
The womenfolk go gaga
With his sweet talk
And cunning smiles
He tells every woman in this village
That she is beautiful
He callously claims
That he has never seen an ugly woman
In this village of ours
But we know he is lying
And the women giggle and jiggle
With unbridled joy
While their menfolk
Frown from a distance
The village photographer

He records history
With his ancient camera
He is a undue witness
To many a village romances
And a catalyst too
To their ultimate demises
He is an automatic visitor
Sometimes wanted
Some other times unwanted
To every Wedding ceremony
To every funeral ceremony
To every harambee function
To every dowry party
in this village
The village photographer

He is an expert in everything
This village photographer
From fashion, politics to relationship consultancy
A truly celebrated rumour monger
From village to village
From ridge to ridge
He is the village photographer

The lucky bugger
The village photographer
He who rubs shoulders
With the mighty and powerful
With the local primary school headmaster 
With the local church minister
With the local bar owner
And of course
With the local leading politician
The Ward Rep
But the number of children
Bearing uncanny resemblance to him
Are on increase
Around this village
But of course he is the village photographer
He who gets away with everything
His days are numbered…


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