Clad in a dark, gloomy face, the sky frowns at us—
The sun goes down, casting crowns of shadows
Darkness sets in, suddenly swallowing up the earth
The hooting of an owl, piercing through the night
Spells the inevitable doom and gloom
Lightning strikes with furry, lighting fires in the sky
Thunder cracks a whip that tears through the atmosphere
And the curtain in the temple is torn in two
Surely, she was a good woman- a loving, caring mother
Hollowness grips our souls in a cold embrace
The loss and pain are unbearable,
The future, grim and dim, stares and grins at us,
With a mischievous relish written all over its face
The iroko tree has fallen to the ground
Our pillar is gone and our cords are loose
We fall apart and scatter, scampering like rats
The rains come and go, children are born and named
Soon afterwards, time steals our sorrows
Even the crying stone of Khayega weeps no more
We rise to the sounds of Isukuti in the heart of the night
The ground shakes and we stump our feet in rhythm
Chants of Mulongo render the atmosphere gay with
celebrations
It is the eve of circumcision festivals of the Abukusu
The fierce bulls of Ikolomani, mad with weed
Make dust off the grasses of Bukhungu stadium
The crowds cheer in maddening uproars
Flagged by Kwalwale, the bull fighter
Who can dare resist life’s enchantment,
And the magic of our native land?
The sun goes down,
Yet, it rises again in the wake of dawn-
We are swallowed in the darkness of today
Only to wake up in the sunrise of tomorrow,
With fresh dreams and aspirations
It is a new dawn, and a new life awaits,
Beckoning with promises of brighter days
