Look over there darling, the scraggy figures
Lone and desolate, though bubbling with life inside
From far, the beauty that kills
Sends one anxiety rolling, yet no trouble
No trouble. But lacking is not a fact
The other side of trouble I know
‘Buttered bread’- playing golf in a bushy field, with a slasher.
Look at that entry, wide and enormous
That is the gate to the school.
There is where trouble awaits,
Arms up, down go their filthy fingers, scarring your body
May be one is carrying perilous stuff.
One socks is green, buy a new pair
Your hair is voluminous, make it Jordan
No badge less shirts here nigger.
Darling, that is where I grew up
To a man I was transformed.
Can you believe it darling? Can you?
That I went to The School.
That big school with numberless teachers
All with masters degree in spanking our backs
That school with large halfway skyscrapers?
That is where men are manufactured, my love.
I mowed grass incessantly, numberless times
Bit my lip for being in that scary place
I bagged uncountable suspensions
The only jackpot prize I ever won effortlessly
But Darling, how I loved it, though boring
Where men are made.
Look how those men walk,
Pacing up like chameleons, tired and weary
But that’s campus life
Campus, campus life!
That’s the school campus!
IN TRIBUTE OF MY FORMER HIGH SCHOOL-NAKURU HIGH SCHOOL.