My Father Poem by ASIIMWE SIMON ROLANDS

My father was a hardworking man,
Who operated a small village farm.
His two spears slept on his shoulders,
And waited for whichever carnivore came.
These were leopards and cheetahs from Nshara,
Which at night, would invade the farm.
They weren’t animals which came daily,
For they would come after along term.
But you didn’t have to coil yourself under your roof,
Because you couldn’t tell when they were to come.
One day my father placed a certain herb on his palm,
And said if he buried it in the Boma no leopard would come.
That it had mystical powers to protect the farm,
And that night he slept assured and firm.
When in the morning he kicked away the blanket,
Left was only twenty anxious rams.