By Shem Onderi
You once meandered past Kisii town,
Loud and proud, you’d flow on down,
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Joining streams that swirled and spun,
A mighty river, second to none.
Past Kisii town, your splashes loud,
Echoing through the bustling crowd,
Those who crossed you, felt the spray,
And feared to drown in your vast sway.
Upstream, boys would race and fight,
Catching fish from dawn to night,
Bragging, laughing, full of cheer,
On who’d caught more, year to year.
The water clear, so pure, so bright,
Tempting one to drink its light;
Herdsmen led their cattle free,
To sip and bathe from you with glee.
But when the rains would fall in spate,
Your banks would burst, a cruel fate.
Homes and shops, you’d overflow,
Bridges submerged, none could go.
As you moved downstream, joined the flow,
The lake would welcome you below.
But not today—no more, you’re weak,
Your strength now gone, your future bleak.
Nyakomisaro, thin and dry,
Your waters fade, your source runs dry.
Exposed you lie, a barren bed,
Your once proud course, now filled with dread.
The smell is foul, the air is thick,
Those who earned from you now quick
To leave behind your empty trace,
Seeking fortune in another place.
Once dark and deep, now dull and bare,
Your life force drained, none left to care.
The bushes that once shielded you,
Now gone, as all your life withdrew.
No fish to catch, no boys to swim,
No joy, no laughter—just the grim
Sight of waste, as dirt floats by,
A river choked, beneath the sky.
You are choking! Will you survive?
If drought persists, you’ll not revive.
The trees that once were by your side
Will drain the last drops you provide.
And when your waters cease to flow,
Will they retreat or overflow?
The pressure’s gone, the spark has died—
Still, your spirit must be revived.
You need life back, you need your grace,
Your weary eyes reflect your place.
Somebody clean you, somebody care,
Protect you now, restore what’s rare!
