{UAH} Fw: THE IMMORAL GUEST STOLE MY UGANDA- An old little poem

On Tuesday, 6 January 2015, 23:24, Rhita Wasswa <rwasswa@yahoo.co.uk> wrote:

He came in the night on his mother's back

Like a ghost swept beyond the dead,

Escaping to my homestead for shelter

Skinny, thirsty and haggard, We fed thee.

In the morning, full to the brim, he fought our husbands,

Death, we mourned, has befallen thee

We cried, we still cry

Shame, he blurted, is the fate of the weaklings.

With food in his rotten grumbling belly, he conquered our homesteads.

From his rear, he passed a poisonous gas

It stunk of contagious poverty, greed, corruption and death

Some called it peace, others a revolution

Our men dead, our children hungry, with a handful of women too frail to cultivate our lands

the guest trained his weak minions

They relied on the guest, they still do 'or else', he dare starves them

He played the mind game

He glared at us assuring us of his priceless security

I bring peace; you can sleep while I burgle you

We grinned from ear to ear

While we slept, he dismantled our homesteads, our kingdoms, our rights, our freedom and our constitution

Yes, I have brought you peace.

What more did we want?

Little did we know

That the guest was here to stay

He shipped his clan from afar

We welcomed them as culture teaches us

Now they roam my village, they are in charge, they are his allies

Hardship is for the host

Our elected elders in big offices are lessened to begging

They sell their souls in exchange for brown envelopes

The guest throws his leftovers at them, they gladly lick his plate

We still thank the guest for bringing peace

We are stupid, we think no further than sleep

The immoral guest has corrupted our men, our women and children with his infectious stench

They think no more, they praise the guest for their own sweat!!

For while we slept, the immoral guest stole my Uganda

Regards to all the guest's partisans,

Rhita Wasswa