Harare Resident Poem by Nkosiyazi Kan Kanjiri

I wake up early morning
Forcing my sleepy laden eyes open
Fantasies of imagination suddenly stride away
Unwillingly cutting dreams short
Dreams snatched by the iron fangs of reality.

Toes stung by Harare's chilly winter nights
I zig zag through the congested port holed streets
Fingers frost beaten
I dig down stinking full bins,
Like a stray dog sniffing where better stench is coming from
Like a green bomber fly
I buzz to where better fart is steaming from
I greedily invade bins, food scavenging.

I hustle I bustle
Walking in multi-porous ventilated clothes I desire not
Arms stretched out, palms open to dry air
I look up to sullen, weary serious minded passersby
Who have granaries of mind boggling businesses to mind.

Nobody dares casting even a mini-second glance at me
My thirsty clothes are an eyesore to their spectacled eyes
They call me memory haunting names
Corrosive names that corrode my humanity
They call me this, they call me that.

I make a loud siren cry
That hits peoples' eardrums in vein
A cry that none but myself hears
A cry bottled and felt within the confinements of my ragged self.

Who hears when I cry
I just but wonder if my tears will ever dry
I just abandon myself on the hard pavement in front of OK supermarket
With a bunch of cardboard boxes to hug me, to give the warmth and comfort denied me
I lay my head down, to sleep
To face yet another distant fantasy, escaping life's iron fangs.