Mary Kimani

The highway,
tarmac crumbling, potholes yawning,
snakes it way
between the village and the township.
Here by this roadside,
I take my rest.

In the city,
grim with the broken dreams of many hearts,
buildings stand,
a coat of grey clay dust
upon each forlorn facet,
the rank air,
surfeit with the sweat of struggling millions.

There thugs lie in wait for me
some want my body
others want my soul
And more

Pambazuka News is the only way I can think of keeping well informed about African issues from this distance. Without such resources one tends to lose touch.