Once again, the rainy season is here, fumes of a healing land can be seen from a distance,
Before the sun rises from it’s hiding place, mama is already awake, she’s seated on her three-legged stool while milking Kalondu the fresian cow,
The land is still wet and slippery, inside the Boma a herd of goats can be heard bleating, the kids are fighting to suckle for breakfast,
The cows are sleeping together to keep warm, with their bellies intact, the heat party has just started,
There’s a man whose music spread all over the world like bush fire,
Up to this moment, he still holds the title of “king of Pop music” his name is Michael Jackson,
Personally I adolised Michael, I still got his pictures on my wall, he was a great man!
When he sung “you’re not alone”, I believed him, I never thought he would sleep and not wake up someday!
The world is like a busy highway, all of us are passersby, whether you’re riding on a Bentley or walking on foot,
Even if you’re on full tank, you will eventually pull over at a gas station to feed your bowls,
By the time you resume, you will definitely get run over by younger riders,
The night shall come knocking and everyone shall be forced to exit the highway to take a nap,
I would hang a small calabash of cold water on my shoulders, a sling on my left hand and leave home to protect my father’s territory from invaders,
The sun would strike hard at noon, leaving everyone desperate for a cup of cold water, all animals would hide under giant leafy trees,
Strong winds would wipe through the starving face of land, only the strongest would survive,
I would leave at dusk, after a long tiresome day in the field alone, but with a ray of hope that the sun shall rise again tomorrow, and it’s going to be a better day!