Who lives in the furthest single-room,
Who comes and goes at all times,
Has made the children,
Has made other tenants,
Has made the landlord,
Heck, has even made the stray dogs,
Grow weary with her endless antics…
She comes home when the children are going to school,
When the folks are going to work.
She leaves home when the children are coming home from school,
When folks are coming home from work…
Not only that,
This tenant has got strange visitors,
Coming and going,
And at all times.
To her room.
High like kite females,
Keep on going in and out of her room.
What business transacts in there,
We don’t know…
The other day,
The police landed in our plot,
Early in the morning,
And arrested everyone,
In that tenant’s single room.
We couldn’t believe,
That such a tiny house,
Six girls, four men and two dogs…
Why, the police even carted away,
A full crate of bootleg beer and a box of illicit spirits.
It was whispered in the plot,
That the police siezed too,
The venerable weed from Jamaica,
For their own use.
But we never speak of these things…
All that we want,
As the tenants of this plot,
Is to have this tenant,
The lady with endless and uncouth friends,
To move out…
She has to move out.
Ah. The tenant…
© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013