Old glares torch me on my proud loud love declaration for her
bitter sweet Kampala and her diametrically opposite sides
She’s a bolting splash of gold and rust
flung and scattered among her hills
like broken ceramic on the brown earth
A side of hers bears they that are fortunate
luxury and abundance beyond imagination
heaven-like serenity, ambience, neat green well kempt gardens
large plush mansions, palace like magnificent hotels
skyscrapers carrying a glittering sparkle, clean sidewalks
Streets recollect trips to the best auto showrooms
Only the best commercial kind wheels are parked
punctuated with trendy teenagers walking dogs, flashing gadgets
and smart corporates rushing to beat the rush hour
Yards away is the ‘other’ side of Kampala
thuds are heard as depressed lads rush about and
jump to their deaths in suicide
Congested streets with filthy stench of rotting sewerage
rubbing shoulders with murderers, drunkards, pedophiles, dacoits
Here all men must maneuver
As a kamunye whooshes past, a cop pleads for a bribe
in the proximity as if oblivious of the gathering crowd
a prostitute holds a young man by the collar
demanding for her well-earned wages
pickpockets flee past me to escape
malice aforethought hands of blood thirsty fatigued citizens
Shabby street children and ragged odorous beggars
piteously hopping around in utter shock and surprise
as we saunter by unbothered by their lamentations, cursing or state
Street vendors are seized with their merchandise
bundled onto green trucks by yellow clad city council agents
The city is for all citizens they say
The riff raff have to be kept away
As a protesting opposition politician is greeted with kicks and blows
Teargas canisters freshen the air
Rights and regulations are optional
save for when we host international commonwealth forums
Why wear a seat belt, when you can afford bribe coins
KIWANUKA GEORGE WILLIAM
Jorge's Ramblings 