NOT IN THE FOOTSTEPS
OF MY FATHER
Not to stoop so low,
Let this be my law,
Before I take the final bow,
Not to walk, in the footsteps of my
fathers.
We all know the history,
We have read of a voter’s misery,
This is no longer a mystery,
How we voted in ‘transparency’,
This time I vow, never in those
footsteps.
Remember ‘mlolongo’ the line?
History has the shortest line won,
How! Was no dilemma of mine,
Why? Was a question out of line,
Low is what I will be, if I trail
along those footsteps again.
How we fought for democracy,
Poured out our idiocracy,
With logic they pressed for voter’s
independency,
So that we could choose without
discrepancy,
You don’t need to ask? These are the
footsteps I would follow.
The most recent was not a hitch,
We shed blood because of ‘some’ speech,
We slay and fought because of a
switch,
And forgot the peace we preach,
At the rooftops I will shout; never
in those footsteps of hate.
Now we see crops of coalitions,
We first thought those were perfect
coordination,
We envisioned us soaring with ‘their’
cooperation,
But the blame game is ‘their best’
harmonization,
Why ask for my choice? Never in the
footsteps of mystification.
The battle of words isn’t the best
of quote,
We are voters not just “that’ lot,
We have seen the work and the loot,
And we hold the choice by the vote,
Today I chose a new path, with the
power of my vote.
© Christine Kasaya
By Christine Wakanyi Kasaya