Wowe! wowe! wowe!
Tuffudde ffe.
abaagala okuzimba eggwanga.
Zitusanze ffe.

It’s a long walk to freedom.
A journey started off with one foot

Whether you wear boots
or carry guns to shoot.
Whether you hold the mic
and speak with spite
Or wear foot socks
Not to suffer from foot pox

Zitusanze ffe.
We pilgrimage to nowhere.
Yet hope to get somewhere
Like children playing in dust,
we roll in circles-
Tossing like rolling stones.
Climbing hills of bones.
Valley’s of skulls
Because eggwanga is built by merceneries.
Our tongues are blistered,
Burning coal-red.
Our speech is seived
Or- we seive it
Our eyes carry dust
Our mouths are stitched with masks.
Our hair erects with misfortune.

In a home, rough and scrubby

Or hands aren’t smooth but rather-

Twisted and entangled.

We are afraid of our shadows

Zitusanze ffe…