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A UGANDAN CLASSIC by TIMOTHY WANGUSA.

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This classic piece is one that you read and go like; ’enough said’ no word ought to be ejected or added to this masterpiece. I hope you enjoy it. Psalms 23 part II The state is my shepherd, I shall not want; it makes me to Lie down in a subsidized house It leads me to political tranquility; it restores my faith in a lucrative future. It leads me into paths of loans and pensions, For its international reputation’s sake. Yea, even though the valley of the shadow Of Kivvulu I will fear no Kondos; For the state is with me, its tanks and guns comfort me. It preserves for me a bank account, in the presence of devaluation; It fills my pockets with allowances, my salary overflows. Surely increments and promotion follow me all the days of my life; And I shall dwell in senior staff quarters forever.
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letter from a contract worker - Antonio Jacinto

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Few poems have been written as raw and truthfully as this,well according to me,but this here is an African masterpiece.. I wanted to write you a letter my love, a letter that would tell of this desire to see you of this fear of losing you of this more than benevolence that i feel of this indefiable ill that pursues me of this yearning to which i live in total surrender I wanted to write you a letter my love, a letter of intimate secrets a letter of memories of you of you of your lips as red as henna of your hair as black as mud of your eyes as sweet as honey of your breasts as hard as wild orange of your lynx* gait and of your caresses such that i can find no better here I wanted to write you a letter my love, that would recall the days in our haunts our nights lost in the long grass that would recall the shade falling on us from the plum trees the moon filtering the endless palm trees that would recall the madness of our passion and the bitterness of our separation... I wanted to writ...
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The scene from his hotel room screen in Nakuru still fills his mind. Let’s call him M. He’s from Muranga, he still drives the Datsun 120 Y that he bought in 1972 when he was a twenty two year old boy, and he’s got a family in the outskirts of Eldoret where his wife runs the family farm (cows and wheat) that he bought in 1982 from a white man fleeing the coup that “never happened,” as he is fond of saying. “So I got the farm cheap.” That was 1982. M was a sharp hustler from Muranga, now he’s grown into an old-ish respectable farmer, 57 years in age, a bit of a sage and a scrooge who in-spite of his Shs.3 million in cash in Equity Bank (savings, he takes no loans) still drives a Datsun 120 Y, and why, till last night, he had never stayed at a hotel! He did now, in the fiery first days of 2008, at a place called Midlands Hotel because he has heard that the land is no longer safe. There was a television set in the hotel room with one of those fancy new satellites that one finds everywhere ...
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