By Shem Onderi
Dust in summer, mud in winter—
the two, in constant exchange on our roads,
but mud clings, refuses to leave.
Just a few drops from heaven confirm your presence;
you need only water to form.
Those who value polished appearances
never live where you reign.
They flee to tarmacked cities,
seeking to escape the constant repair of their locomotives.
But no, you’re there too—
the city dwellers now taste rural life
in the heart of the city!
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Even those empowered to fix you,
once they visit the countryside,
often turn and fly,
seeking solid ground
in well-kept schoolyards.
They attend meetings, talk about how to fix you,
then leave before the rain falls,
before you have a chance to form.
But those who know you well,
those accustomed to your ways,
understand the rhythm—
they will move from mud,
to dust, and back again.
- Mr Onderi is a member of KPC
