Still spirits…A poem by Jamil Mugabi


Rushed meals behind termite curved doors

Bread crumbs on tasteless porridge

With a little margarine to help it down

Silver fish lunches oiled up in tomatoes

Tried to wash my feet though.


Not a grain of promise anywhere in the room

Just our yesterdays and the gloom.

Fights fueled by regret and fear

Of becoming what we already are

Mama made supper any way.


Sea sick but there for the fish

Which bought the occasional road side snack

We split in countless halves for a taste

And later shoved down with our dirty fingers

It felt good to afford something.


We never waited on the future

We knew we had none

There was today and what might be

How and when questions left to chance

Somehow we still had chakala in the evenings.


By Jamil Mugabi

Social sciences

Makerere University



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