They ran out of mud

#1
Even though i Usually claim to have finished school so long ago that I have hard time remembering any of the institutions I attended, I have never forgotten this thing from my primary school text book.
I also cant help notice how such exemplary people receive little recognition in africa in comparison to failures like our current leaders.

by Dr. Miriam Khamadi Were


There is a little hut

Built across from here;

They've mudded two walls

And the rest stands unmade

For they ran out of mud.



There is a deep gully

Running along the road;

They have filled it halfway

And the rest is still gaping

For they ran out of mud.



There is a pot by the alter

That they began to mould ;

They finished the base

But the neck remains undone

For they ran out of mud.



Mud! Mud!

Who can find mud?

Maybe if it were gold

Someone would.
 
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#6
Even though i Usually claim to have finished school so long ago that I have hard time remembering any of the institutions I attended, I have never forgotten this thing from my primary school text book.
by Dr. Miriam Khamadi Were
I also cant help notice how such exemplary people receive little recognition in africa in comparison to failures like our current leaders.

There is a little hut

Built across from here;

They've mudded two walls

And the rest stands unmade

For they ran out of mud.



There is a deep gully

Running along the road;

They have filled it halfway

And the rest is still gaping

For they ran out of mud.



There is a pot by the alter

That they began to mould ;

They finished the base

But the neck remains undone

For they ran out of mud.



Mud! Mud!

Who can find mud?

Maybe if it were gold

Someone would.
Ahhh I recall reciting this poem on Parents day and of course I had no idea what it all meant.
 

gashwin

Village Sponsor
#8
I doubt that the anthology is an original source too.

I don't think so too. i remember enjoying it in form three alongside Building the Nation and the Atieno poem.

Building the Nation by Henry Muwanga Barlow

Today I did my share in building the nation.
I drove a Permanent Secretary to an
important, urgent function
In fact, to a luncheon at the Vic.
The menu reflected its importance
Cold bell beer with small talk,
Then fried chicken with niceties
Wine to fill the hollowness of the laughs
Ice-cream to cover the stereotype jokes
Coffee to keep the PS awake on the return journey
I drove the Permanent Secretary back.
He yawned many times in the back of the car
Then to keep awake, he suddenly asked,
Did you have any lunch friend?
I replied looking straight ahead
And secretly smiling at his belated concern
That I had not, but was slimming!
Upon which he said with a seriousness
Which amused more than annoyed me,
Mwanachi, I too had none!
I attended to matters of state.
Highly delicate diplomatic duties you know,
And friend, it goes against my grain,
Causes me stomach ulcers and wind,
Ah, he continued, yawning again,
The pains we suffer in building the nation!
So the PS had ulcers too!
My ulcers I think are equally painful
Only they are caused by hunger
Not sumptuous lunches!
So two nation builders
Arrived home this evening
With terrible stomach pains
The result of building the nation – in different ways”

A Freedom Song : Marjorie Oludhe-Macgoye

Atieno washes dishes,
Atieno plucks the chicken,
Atieno gets up early,
Beds her sacks down in the kitchen,
Atieno eight years old,
Atieno yo.

Since she is my sister’s child,
Atieno needs no pay.
While she works my wife can sit,
Sewing every sunny day:
With he earnings I support,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’ sly and jealous,
Bad example to the kids,
Since she minds them, like a schoolgirl,
Wants their dresses, shoes and beads,
Atieno ten years old,
Atieno yo.

Now my wife has gone to study,
Atieno is less free.
Don’t I keep her, school my own ones,
Pay the party, union fee,
All for progress! Aren't you grateful?
Atieno yo?

Visitors need much attention,
All the more when I work night.
That girl spends too long at market.
Who will teach her what is right?
Atieno rising fourteen,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s had a baby,
So we know that she is bad.
Fifty fifty it may live,
And repeat the life she had,
Ending in post-partum bleeding,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s soon replaced;
Meat and sugar more than all,
She ate in such a narrow life,
Were lavished at her funeral.
Atieno’s gone to glory,
Atieno yo.
 

Dune

Village Elder
#10
I don't think so too. i remember enjoying it in form three alongside Building the Nation and the Atieno poem.

Building the Nation by Henry Muwanga Barlow

Today I did my share in building the nation.
I drove a Permanent Secretary to an
important, urgent function
In fact, to a luncheon at the Vic.
The menu reflected its importance
Cold bell beer with small talk,
Then fried chicken with niceties
Wine to fill the hollowness of the laughs
Ice-cream to cover the stereotype jokes
Coffee to keep the PS awake on the return journey
I drove the Permanent Secretary back.
He yawned many times in the back of the car
Then to keep awake, he suddenly asked,
Did you have any lunch friend?
I replied looking straight ahead
And secretly smiling at his belated concern
That I had not, but was slimming!
Upon which he said with a seriousness
Which amused more than annoyed me,
Mwanachi, I too had none!
I attended to matters of state.
Highly delicate diplomatic duties you know,
And friend, it goes against my grain,
Causes me stomach ulcers and wind,
Ah, he continued, yawning again,
The pains we suffer in building the nation!
So the PS had ulcers too!
My ulcers I think are equally painful
Only they are caused by hunger
Not sumptuous lunches!
So two nation builders
Arrived home this evening
With terrible stomach pains
The result of building the nation – in different ways”

A Freedom Song : Marjorie Oludhe-Macgoye

Atieno washes dishes,
Atieno plucks the chicken,
Atieno gets up early,
Beds her sacks down in the kitchen,
Atieno eight years old,
Atieno yo.

Since she is my sister’s child,
Atieno needs no pay.
While she works my wife can sit,
Sewing every sunny day:
With he earnings I support,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’ sly and jealous,
Bad example to the kids,
Since she minds them, like a schoolgirl,
Wants their dresses, shoes and beads,
Atieno ten years old,
Atieno yo.

Now my wife has gone to study,
Atieno is less free.
Don’t I keep her, school my own ones,
Pay the party, union fee,
All for progress! Aren't you grateful?
Atieno yo?

Visitors need much attention,
All the more when I work night.
That girl spends too long at market.
Who will teach her what is right?
Atieno rising fourteen,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s had a baby,
So we know that she is bad.
Fifty fifty it may live,
And repeat the life she had,
Ending in post-partum bleeding,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s soon replaced;
Meat and sugar more than all,
She ate in such a narrow life,
Were lavished at her funeral.
Atieno’s gone to glory,
Atieno yo.
Tha
Thanks man. I remember these ones fondly
 
#11
I don't think so too. i remember enjoying it in form three alongside Building the Nation and the Atieno poem.

Building the Nation by Henry Muwanga Barlow

Today I did my share in building the nation.
I drove a Permanent Secretary to an
important, urgent function
In fact, to a luncheon at the Vic.
The menu reflected its importance
Cold bell beer with small talk,
Then fried chicken with niceties
Wine to fill the hollowness of the laughs
Ice-cream to cover the stereotype jokes
Coffee to keep the PS awake on the return journey
I drove the Permanent Secretary back.
He yawned many times in the back of the car
Then to keep awake, he suddenly asked,
Did you have any lunch friend?
I replied looking straight ahead
And secretly smiling at his belated concern
That I had not, but was slimming!
Upon which he said with a seriousness
Which amused more than annoyed me,
Mwanachi, I too had none!
I attended to matters of state.
Highly delicate diplomatic duties you know,
And friend, it goes against my grain,
Causes me stomach ulcers and wind,
Ah, he continued, yawning again,
The pains we suffer in building the nation!
So the PS had ulcers too!
My ulcers I think are equally painful
Only they are caused by hunger
Not sumptuous lunches!
So two nation builders
Arrived home this evening
With terrible stomach pains
The result of building the nation – in different ways”

A Freedom Song : Marjorie Oludhe-Macgoye

Atieno washes dishes,
Atieno plucks the chicken,
Atieno gets up early,
Beds her sacks down in the kitchen,
Atieno eight years old,
Atieno yo.

Since she is my sister’s child,
Atieno needs no pay.
While she works my wife can sit,
Sewing every sunny day:
With he earnings I support,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’ sly and jealous,
Bad example to the kids,
Since she minds them, like a schoolgirl,
Wants their dresses, shoes and beads,
Atieno ten years old,
Atieno yo.

Now my wife has gone to study,
Atieno is less free.
Don’t I keep her, school my own ones,
Pay the party, union fee,
All for progress! Aren't you grateful?
Atieno yo?

Visitors need much attention,
All the more when I work night.
That girl spends too long at market.
Who will teach her what is right?
Atieno rising fourteen,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s had a baby,
So we know that she is bad.
Fifty fifty it may live,
And repeat the life she had,
Ending in post-partum bleeding,
Atieno yo.

Atieno’s soon replaced;
Meat and sugar more than all,
She ate in such a narrow life,
Were lavished at her funeral.
Atieno’s gone to glory,
Atieno yo.
heheh ....building the nation too. why do I think they (the poems) are all familiar to me?
 

gashwin

Village Sponsor
#19
Grass Will Grow


Grass will grow
In tribute and prayers for parents who’ve had to bury their children, the poem Grass will grow by Kenyan Poet Jonathan Kariara [1935-1993].
If you should take my child Lord
Give my hands strength to dig his grave
cover him with earth
Lord send a little rain
For grass will grow
If my house should burn down
So that the ashes sting the nostrils
Making the eyes weep
Then Lord send a little rain
For grass will grow
But Lord do not send me
Madness
I ask for tears
Do not send me moon hard madness
To lodge snug in my skull
I would you sent me hordes of horses
Galloping
Crushing
But do not break
The yolk of the moon on me.
 
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