Below is the poem entitled Mister Fisherman - I'm calling you out which was written by poet
Tsiluma. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Mister Fisherman - I’m calling you out!
You of the Nilotic tribe, standing so tall and proud.
You ran away from school as you hastened to heed the call
of the Lake that shall not be named.
You fought alongside your village men in the battle of Migingo –
an Island that serves as the oasis of the wondrous Lake.
You prided yourself in victory,
But you miscalculated…
The Lake you so treasured has been overridden by hyacinth (conveniently planted
as some sort of a whacked experiment).
The scientists of course have scattered back to their home country.
And you…you’re left with your wooden boats,
using bamboo for oars.
Stealing mosquito nets provided by UN for the campaign against malaria,
and casting them as fishing nets.
Pathetic right? But not as pathetic as the fruits of your labour.
So you got a little cash from your catch –
Now you pride yourself as King of the Lake.
You stay up all night to capture the big fish that quickly gets transported
overseas… and you, what do you eat?
You rush into Atieno’s kiosk and spend money on brewed beer, you laugh at
your achievement and pick up women for show.
Prostitutes abound- the ones you made when you told them without flesh
there is no fish for sale.
Your seed spreads far, your brats run about shirtless and shoeless…
But you, you pride yourself in inheriting your late brother’s wife.
Don’t you know why he is dead? It’s witchcraft you say…
Your ignorance is astonishing.
Tell me something Mister Fisherman…
in your quest for luxury have you counted the cost?
Of course not! You deem yourself above the rest.
Your friends will drum at your funeral when you die from cold and disease.
And your spawn that you so carelessly spread?
They WILL run away from school to continue the family trade.