Do you not hear the angry car horns?
The incessant sound slowly dragging sanity out of your mind?
Busy working-class motorists, delayed by the unfortunate luck of the poor victim.
The men at the boda stage scream like they’re possessed.
Boda bodas run off to chase the killer,
Instead of rushing the victim to hospital.
Look how shocked her husband is!
Resounding cries own the scene.
Blood keeps flowing.
The ambulance will get here.
Whether tomorrow,
Or a year after today.
Whether to drag a half-dead body
To a referral hospital where doctors are on strike,
Or to inspect a corpse,
The ambulance will get here eventually.

The ancestors, elder Tugume says,

You begin to see them before you die.

Kezia called me yesterday,

A big smile on her face.

She said she had seen a whole lot of them,

Singing and chanting under the big mango tree,

Down by the road to the market.

I thought she was playing

But her face had never looked more serious.

Maybe she’s running mad?