So much has been going on in Kampala, my hometown. All in the attempt to prepare for the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting that will be held here next month. Parts of our city look really good, but where I live and work its business as usual. This is still the rainy season and much of the city experiences flooding. It is such a contrast from the dry season when the city is just plain dusty! I don't know which I prefer, the dust or the mud and floods. I wish it could be somewhere in the middle. This is a poem that describes my hometown during the dry season.
My Home Town
I once lived in a city that was dusty
It was pretty and modern, but musty
No rubbish bins
Not even tins
Sometimes it could be so very nasty!
Now dusty is the capital of Ugantic
Its traffic jams are ever so frantic
No courtesy
Some heresy
And vehicles that should really be antique!
I love this dusty city of my childhood
And my country so often misunderstood
Such friendliness
Even in distress
There are some who are always so very good
But my country is plagued with a disease
Its potentials devoured by bourgeoisie
Mansions to behold
Just out of my hold
And an influx of foreign expertise
There is hope for our dear fusty land
It’s in our reach, right in our command
Grab our prize
Improvise
Come on then rise up and take a stand
That’s all from my dear dusty town
Come visit, we shall not close down
Malls full of goods
Taxis with hoods
And floods so be sure not to drown
