By t. Michael Mboya.
No
cockerel is cradled
My
wife’s head does not sway
under
the weight of firewood
Her
right hand does not close
a
box of matches
No
axe handle balances
on
my son’s right shoulder
No
gleaming axe-head
laughs
away the sun’s darts
behind
the boy’s back
None
of Father’s brothers walks
behind
us, to get down on a knee
to
braid some blades of grass.
We
stand in a circle
holding
hands
The
builders and ourselves
holding
hands
In a portfolio at Mikey’ iiis feet
In a portfolio at Mikey’ iiis feet
our
copies of the necessary
permits
from the authorities
the
blueprints & c.
With
her eyes shut
Maggyiv leads us
in
a prayer to Jehovah.
Before
me it rises, slowly,
a
vision of the house
that
will be the centre-piece
in
our homestead.
[i] Uref. A village in western Kenya, the poet’s home.
[ii] The carrying of a cockerel, tinder, axe, etc. are part of the traditional Luo ritual of founding a home.
[iii] Mikey. The poet’s son.
[iv] Maggy. The poet’s wife.
Prof. T. Michael Mboya teaches in the Department of Literature, Theatre and Film Studies at Moi University, Eldoret, Kenya. @TomMichaelMboya
