Men in dirty overalls are decorating the streets
of the city for my visit
They are planting rows of white poles on either side
of the street
At the tips of the poles the national flag flutters
against the people’s misery
I am visiting the city and not the people
They’re not important to me
The city is sparkling clean
No speck defies my orders
under my imperious police’s presence
And I know the people are starving in this country
Many of my foes I threw them to crocodiles’ banquet
But who cares about other people?
I am killing the minds of these stupid people softly
without them feeling the pain.
It is not my fault that they still think I am their god
They fear me like a lion let loose from the zoo
They are too ignorant and continue to
drop their hard-earned penny into my coffer
They dance for me and I beat them on their buttocks
with my magic wand
Women love it, and their husbands beat cowhide drums
whilst I am frolicking with them
I know I am wrong but I cannot stop it
It is like trying to stop the sun from shining
I am old now and I can see people’s cataracts of stupidity
lifting from their eyes
My old footmen have rebelled against me and are organising
my downfall in the South and one in the North
But my people from my tribe are not listening
to their nonsense
But time is ticking so fast like legs of a cheetah
Soon I will be exposed and taken down from
my glorious seat
beaten, spat upon
trampled upon like dirt
Oh! God take me before
my time please!
Am begging you please!
I don’t want to see these people enjoy
life I denied them
while my eyes are still open
Let my ghost haunt my successors ever!
if people’s lives were better during my time
than their times
please!
Nixon Mateulah was born in Lilongwe in Malawi and moved to South Africa in 1996. Running Home is a fictional memoir based on his experiences when arriving from Malawi in South Africa during the early years of the South African democracy. He has published a number of short stories and poems in various online and print publications.
