It was raining when I left for work
It was raining and it was still dark
As I left my flat,
A girl was dropped in a fancy car
And another girl
Neighbors, students about my age
Probably from many of the nights out in town
And I walked away in the rain, slightly ran
With my head bent, not to wet my face
Thinking of the irony
Public transport is good
Sometimes unreliable and chaotic
But good
So that I caught a ‘matatu”
Not long after
Sat at the window like I always do
In no time, from the hills of mathare
Men walking upwards to the town
They are in files, disorganized files
Their hands swing in synchronized motion
They have their trousers tucked in to their blue socks
There is no telling how far, most of them have walked
But you can tell where they are going
To some low paying jobs
To cater for their unworking poorly educated wives
To provide for their malnutritioned babies
It’s dark
It’s windy
And it’s raining
The men hold umbrellas in their hands
But they do not open them,
The rain splatters on them
Drips down their arms
Down their umbrellas
And the wind blows the drops
From the hanging tip of the umbrellas
So that the men keep walking despite the rain
And the darkness covers their sweat
And their blue socks are dirty
Public transport is good
So that I get to town long before,
Long before the trekking men
It’s too early I’d complain
And it is, it’s still dark even
But not for the two old ladies
The two old ladies in reflective clothing
The two ladies sweeping the street
The two old ladies with beat up faces
More beat up than the wheelbarrows
That they collect their trash in
Our trash in
I don’t know who to ask
But am sure if I did ask
And I got the answer
It would go something like this
The girls have to ride the fancy cars
Someone has to ride them
And some don’t
So they walk in the rain
With unopened umbrellas
And dirty blue socks
And there has to be malnutritioned babies
And someone has to sweep the street
It just has to be that way.
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