Peculiar Things That My Father Told Me

Summer is here, the trees are losing their leaves yet again,
There is an instant drop of lively plants on the riverbank,
We commence our journey to the farm, winding through the bushy table land,
Father used to let me sit on his neck from behind as we jostled through the woods,

The Great Kamba Festival

We were just doing fine before the western culture ruined us,
We used to dance to the rhythm of our traditional “kilumi” songs with passion,
You could feel the impact of our native songs as we perambulated around the fireplace,
Leading the troupe of dancers was my favourite uncle, “Muoki the drummer king”