A poem dedicated to all my ghetto people:
By Vera Kamtukule
I know how it feels to grow up on a plot of 13 houses
I know how it feels to que up in the morning for toilet use
I know how it feels to forget your soap in the common bathroom
I know how it feels to find your soap gone after 3 minutes
I know how it feels to be slapped on the face for losing the family soap
I know how it feels to live in a house which is in front of the plot
I know how it feels to see the unpaved drainage full of still water (zithaphwi) smelling like a dead rat
I know how it feels to hear the landlord scorn your parents for late payment of rent
I know how it feels to watch your mum run from the outside kitchen into the house with food on a rainy day
I know how it feels to suck up to the big kahuna/captain of the home fulaye team
I know how it feels to pay the kahuna to be allowed to play “miller” coz you aren’t good enough
I know how it feels to get a beating from the kahuna for “kuwakhisa” mpila all the way from kotolela mpira
I know how it feels to walk 5 or more kms to a primary school
I know how it feels to sit on a hard floor in june
I know how it feels to be beaten daily on the way home by the boy you mocked in class for not wearing under gear
I know how it feels to have lice all over your hair
I know how it feels to have a lice freely move on your shoulder and have the person behind you alert you of the same
I know how it feels to have your name on the noise makers list on a daily basis
I know how it feels to do punishment/chibalo daily
I know how it feels to go shopping for second hand clothes on the market and not find your size
I know how it feels to have your clothes look like they have just been vomitted by a dog when you visit relations
I know how it feels to live with grandparents when your parents couldnt work it out
I know how it feels to live in a grocery store near bottlestores
I know how it feels to fall asleep each night listening to “give me my wages mr foreman” from the neighbour’s bottlestore
I know how it feels to see fights on a daily basis among ayufi fighting for “bar girls” as they were called at the time
I know how it feels to use the creative voice to fit it
I know how it feels to not have MK50 to pay for a braai
I know how it feels to make yourself irreplaceable so much so that those with money will come looking for you
I know how it feels to be accepted because you tell the best jokes and you have lots of fake stories
I know how it feels to come home from school and not find food
I know how it feels to pass by a friend’s place just so you could share their meal
I know how it feels to score “as belows” and have noone really bother
I know how it feels to have your teachers swear on their forefathers that you can never go to college
I know how it feels to meet the same teachers at the Porters Lodge of the college after God’s own heart
I know how it feels to have your boyfriend pass by your house 8 times till someone sees him and they announce his arrival
I know how it feels to have an entire neighbourhood rejoice and mourn with you when it becomes necessary
I know how it feels to see your neighbours possessions being taken away by a katapila
I know how it feels to see your homeboys drink themselves to stupor at the “7 doors”
I know how it feels to dress fashionably on borrowed clothes
I know how it feels to have friends come get their clothes after a falling out
Trust me I know how it feels…….because I AM, from the Ghetto.
Mic drop!!!!!
Leave a comment