My Son and I

When I look at my son

Fingers flicking on the play station

I marvel

Some few years ago in 1967

When I was his age

There were no such gadgets

Instead, we played sheki and birkoli

And shot each other using jumla plant guns

Girls played kora, boys played lifundo

I liked pepeta, I dribbed the ball like Christian Ronaldo

We made clay toys at Kacheliba Mixed

We went to mtelezo at Shabaha

Hunted for hyraxes and hares

But my son,

My son shoots with his toys

I don’t get it—he shoots people!

Or drives fast cars by pressing buttons

We are world apart,

I, the old fogey who played in the dust,

And my son, who sits up all day playing video games

I once sneaked into my son’s room and tried them

I think when I saw a figure aim a gun at me, I ducked

That was the last I had with those weapons!

Photo credit: Google.