THE MONK FOR WHOM WE STARVED

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By Esther Jeruto Koros                                                                                                                            

The monk for whom we starved                                

Bald, bulging belly, thin lipped

Approaches the fetid, fated shanties

The womenfolk hasten, their pains disguised

The men reverently, pull off hats

He, the moving shrine graced and embraced

I swore! God’s face looked like his

 

Visitation over, he recedes to the baronial mansion

Chest sticking out; coins and notes

Treaded behind, myself among other kids

And my albino friend Chris-t

Because he is so white.

We are loaded, oh! So loaded

Heavy baskets

Pumpkins, bananas, quavers, mangoes...

Famished, hesitance ties our feet to the mansion

For who wants to return to vacuous homes?

 

The Monk for whom we starved                                                                                   

We later learnt, had made of us

Buffoons, nincompoops, zanies

The Monk-ey for whom we starved

Is Christopher’s father

My albino friend                                            © June 2020


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