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Poem

Many houses, many people 
None like mine all so different
Many mothers, many fathers
All my neighbors and all so different
Smiles and laughter, scowls and anger 
Many moods, all so different.

Some had stools, others couches
And I loved to sit and chat, or listen to them talk
Many people, many tongues,
Some spoken like a song, and not one word 
Not one; did I comprehend
But I loved to sit and listen.

Many mothers, many fathers
And all the mothers shared a mystery 
They could talk the pot language
Coax a fire to grow and burn
Talk to the pans and to the pots 
And I, I  got to sample different foods
Mama Otis omena, mama Nechesa’s ugali
Mursik from Langats home, Matoke from mama Omaris’
And mokimo from my mother’s kitchen.

Many shades on our skin,
Atieno’s as black as coal, me? Mine a lighter shade
Kimanis’ light like a mzungu
But on the swings we played and swung
And when we fell our knees got scraped 
And the blood was the same all red 
So I figured we all were the same inside.

We could play, eat at each others homes
We taught each other how to say hello 
Hello in differenT sweet tongues
Murembe at Nechesa’s home
Ithi nade at Atieno’s home
Achamigei  at Kibets’
Dzalamkadze at  Nzingo’s home 
Niatea at my home.

I learned a lot as a child but the greatest lesson was
We may be different outside but inside we are all the same
It’s our choice to love or to hate
If we embrace each other life will be easy
Atieno, Kamau,Nechesa Kibet,Omarri, Nzingo
All are gifts from the Lord.

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