The Boy Who Grew In The Slums Poem by Jasmine Fafanyo Awagah

After months a baby was born
Happiness was the shirt and tears, the glasses, that was worn
There the baby is
born into this world as it is
where is he born?
In the manger? No, its not Jesus
Its about the boy born in a village but grew in the slum
He grew there and never asked how come
He loved the life
Searching for milk tin (conco) for his 'conco car'
The gutters of Nima were a source of money
Pampanaa, pilolo, alugoto and chaskeyley were his favourite sport
He was never guilty of being called dirty cos dirt was his the judge of the court
Dad could chase him for miles just for him to bath
But he chose his path
to be a ghetto boy
He stole money and saved it to buy his toy
After 3 days he destroyed the toy
To him it was a mystery how he heard songs from the guitar
His gang was of three, he was not the leader
One day he was caught playing the game mum and dads play
Pulled out of a pile of tyres
It remains a memory but now it doesn't really matter
As time went on this little boy grew
But what is here about his life is just a few
Where is this boy who grew in the slums
He is here, telling you his story