Waking up at the crack of dawn was my mother’s daily slogan, come rain come shine,
She used to rise up in the wee hours of morning, light up the fire and make breakfast,
In Africa it was a taboo wake up late, when the sun was already up,
Everyone would laugh at you for being lazy, mama would criticise you indirectly,

She would greet you, “Good morning Grandpa, how was night?”
That word alone would strike off the ego of a thirteen year old me,
Then she would offer me a cup of hot porridge and watch as i struggled to swallow,
The punishment of waking up late than anyone else was to drive the cattle to the plains, alone,

Being a sluggard in my family would bring forth unending misfortunes,
When everyone else was mocking me, there was one loyal friend who would never leave me,
“Tyso” my favourite dog,
He would wag his tail repeatedly when he saw me, producing a hissing sound of love,
I named him “Tyso” after the America’s most lethal boxer Mike Tyson, following his unwavering physique,

He would lead the herd as we ambulated down the dusty village road headed south of my forefather’s land,
Upon reacting our destination, Tyso would chase after squirrels for almost an hour,
Then he would come back heads high, carrying it to remind me his net worth,
He was my best man, my helper, my only son, the most devoted best friend I’ve ever had. Rest In Paradise My Fellow Soldier!!!😭😭😭