Poetry

UN photo

 

By

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

 

 

 

Between the Wars

 

 

Between the wars

are the grasses

the elephants trample on

while dancing the dance of death

in Darfur;

He kills women with death cry

In Syria.

 

Between the wars

are the bullets

we have to collect

and count as the number in the book

in Nigeria,

the good number

always underrated

in Congo Basin

from the Pearl.

 

Between the wars

are the casualties

whose blood cleans

their comedy errors

in Somalia;

the voices

on the feet of Rwenzori mountains

cry in coldness,

the voices in

the valleys

cry of betrayal

in the valleys of dry bones

In Baghdad.

 

Between the wars

are the voices

of the absent friends

calling in vain

under the Lebanon cedars.

 

Between the wars,

generals acquire ropes of reputations

from the petals of blood

of the civilians;

and diamonds and pearls heaped

like Mt. Venezuela.

 

 

 

 

My Child

 

 

My child,

Don’t be childish!

Open your eyes

And see far

Into the bright future

Behind this generation,

Do you want to live in the past?

 

My child,

Don’t be childish!

Be old while young,

Don’t follow their right disorders,

O daughters of disorders!

Who peel off their buttocks

And dress naked in the squares,

Shaking their overripe breasts

Zoomed out of the blouses,

Boiling and flowing over,

Spilling like moon white milk,

To lure the world into doomsday.

 

My child,

Don’t be childish!

I grew in the bush

And speak bush wisdom,

The bush for which I stand!

 

Once frogs croaked here

And dark forests of bush swallowed

This place, this city;

But now dark forests of storeys

Are all you can see here.

 

But that can’t compare

With the life you hold,

The world’s changing

At a breakneck speed,

It is your life it wants.

 

It is your life to keep,

My child,

It is your eyes to wake from sleep,

Grow but be wise,

Child,

Grow but be wise.

 

 

 

 

Death of a Chief

 

 

Sleep, Your Eminence, sleep;

That the world may rest.

 

An important death

Has occurred of his reign

After decades of indecencies,

Long kept in boxes of silence;

And we, the mourners,

Are here to bury

His dark oblong box of glory:

Bury,

Bury,

Bury.

 

We, the mourners,

Who are paid to weep,

Have composed hymns

To mourn his sweet parting

With drinks, dances and requiems.

 

To the period of glory-seeking,

And the rape of the lawful rule ,

And echoes of coughing machines,

And the songs of mass griefs;

Mothers sung with loins worn

 

To the evening of his blood wine,

And the insincere praises paid for,

Look, there he stands

In the dock of Common Law;

Glory,

Glory,

Glory.

 

 

 

 

 

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st is a Ugandan Poet/English and Literature teacher, born in Kitgum, an Acholi by tribe, aged 26.

He is from the land ruled by Idi Amin Dada (1971-9), then by Museveni (1986-present), invaded by LRA/Lord Resistance Army under Joseph Kony(1986-2006).

Thus, he comes from a dirt poor family background, a nation where life is at stake.