Edward Kurwakumire Poet I do not know?

The African Journey

At six o’clock 

Already at the bus station 

Not much. 

Just a tree to provide 

enough shade in the 

blazing sun 

And little protection when raining 

Six o’clock 

Can be an hour earlier 

Could be an hour late 

Or could just be in time 

The bus 

never punctual 

never certain 

Finally there is a sound 

And massive vibration of the ground 

At last the bus has arrived 

But full as usual 

We will have to stand 

Maybe halfway 

Maybe all the way 

But finally we get there 

And as usual grandma is there, 

Smiling, 

Waiting for us.

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