Child of Shame

Due to be performed on 5^th August 2011 for a Spoken Word Poetry Slam @ the Lily Pond Art Centre Nanyuki, Kenya ; The Theme is on Street Life Experience. More entries are invited and to be directed to Lily Pond Art Centre. Let us have fun.

Song Intro:

Na na na na…na na na na

Na na na na…na na na na

……………………

Ni chuki, ndio na hisi
Nikiwaza jinsi
Mlivyojitolea kuniudhi
Bila matokeo yaani

Ni chuki, ndio na hisi
Nikiwaza jinsi
Mlivyojitolea kuniudhi
Bila matokeo yaani

Na na na na…na na na na } x 2

…………………………

Credit: Song: “Chuki” (Hatred); Artist: Wyre

Rain patters, Cold shatters,

Misery bites, loneliness invites

Darkness creeps, solitude stings

Welcome to my world, share in my word

I sit here in the garbage mound

This I call home, this I call my place

And you…you sit in your expensive homes

Perimeter-walled as a fence

As for me…as for me, my fence is my skin

Unclothed, dirty, baked in human filth

I do not complain

As you drive by comfortably

On a Sunday afternoon, your leisure stops

Immediately, you securely roll up your windows

And look the other way, away from me, away from my misery

It is as if by avoiding looking at me, I will disappear

I wish I could but I am there in my indignity

I am that mud in your car tyres, I don’t belong

I am your chokoraa, degrade me! Go on, distance me!

I rummage through rotten food in the bins

Some time I get lucky, other times I don’t

Most times we fight to live, there are many of us here

We keep watch of the dustbin trucks, they are our saviours

And as they unload our daily food onto the bins, our day’s worries are offset

Then, then we worry about the askari

For our crime of sleeping in the streets, we are lashed

Chased down alleys, break our legs on manholes

Get torn backs, bruised heads

And we somehow live on to see another day

Others die, die from the injuries

But no one knows, no one cares

After all, our story is shameful

Not good for the country

I am your child of shame

I expose your limitations

As I sleep in the roundabout

With no roof over my head

I mock you, you in a 4-bedroomed house

And you, you my leader in a leafy suburb

As I light up polythene to keep warm

And suck on glue, you, you who is in a posh

Sitting room, I mock your cold heart

Your house may be warm but is your heart warm too?

As rain pours on me and July cold wraps me

I mock you, you who brought me to the streets

I blame you, yes, you, you who sired me

Abandoned me, you who ignored better laws

To protect me, you who despised me…

At times on a Sunday I hear a preacher preach

There is nothing as great as love

I doubt him:

If love was great, why could I be hated so

The piercing eyes, the cold grin, the mean looks

The hurried steps

It is as if I want to beg from them

And when they do, they throw a coin

And count that as charity

What charity!

All I want is to be loved, to be appreciated

To be counted, to belong…not your coins

After all, I eat from the dustbin

As I see my friends walking with their parents

A sense of sadness sweeps me, overpowers me

The clothes they wear, I should wear too

The shoes they put on, I should put on too

The love they receive, I should receive too

I see them happy, I see them jump about

I feel like I could play with them

But I cannot, I could not, probably never will

See, I don’t belong, I am chokoraa

I walk away, away in sadness

Sadness that I am a dirt, I am grime, I am filth…takataka

I am a child of shame

I walk away… to the rain, to the cold, to the misery

To the darkness, to the solitude

And wait for another day half-asleep at the roundabout

If, only if the askaris don’t come for me

Or it rains, or I am run by a vehicle,

Or I catch cholera at night or mauled by a dog

Or (you never know) caught by a stray bullet

Boom! Boom! Boom! Another pest rid of society

Another statistic, another figure…till we meet chokoraa

Till we meet child of shame…till we meet…till we meet…

End Song

…………………………………….

I'll see you when you get there

If you ever get there, see you when you get there

I'll see you when you get there if you ever get there

See you when you get there  x2

……………………………………………..

From Coolio’s Song, I see You When You get There

Lorot Son of the Hills' Note:

Chokoraa- A derogative name for a 'street urchin'. Urchin is also a politically incorrect term coined at the height of widespread hate for street children. I also oppose "watoto wa kurandaranda mitaani" translated loosely to " children who roam the streets" because this heightens the stigma already attached to them. A more humane term should be coined.

C) Lorot Salem 2011