His character was elusive
No one could understand him
Today he would look like an angel
Tomorrow an ugly devil
When hungry, he would chew anything
Indeed ‘everything’ within his able reach
But it’s when thirsty I feared him most!
Then, he would drink, and drink, and drink
Anything- everything
Funny enough, he had a liking
For the gravesides
This what made him vicious!
Makmende was good at times
He would listen and reason
May be it was pretence
When he promised heaven on earth,
he literally made it hell
Somehow, his name sneaked
Into the good books
Though albeit lies and pretences
He whispered detest, hate and death
But his roar was full of love, affection and purpose
Most of the times, he ‘roared’
He preferred a roar over a whisper!
Makmende loved women too
Or may be they loved him
His queer character was the bait
They flocked his threshold
He would be heard roaring love serenades
To the lucky ones he just roared love
And to the unlucky ones he whispered
Whispers of desperation and multiplication
Amazingly, he would just whisper
The ‘f’ word, and nine months later,
A small ‘kakimende junior’ would sprout
Probably to guarantee continuation
Of the ‘great’ Makmendes dynasty!
Makmende was a queer man
Severally, he had stolen a neighbor’s cow
He had learned the tricks
He would milk it and invite his neighbour
For a cup of tea.
He stole everything,
Cows, goats, donkeys, votes, knives and even wives
Each time he stole votes and knives,
There would be reprisals
Makmende is arguably a bad person
He killed his spare-wheel
After the death of his love
Occasioned by his love for sweet lungula
His death is now a mystery
Some says it was the ‘dear maize cob’
He minced the grains
One after the other
He chewed; relaxing on the cosy ‘lazy boy’
After-all he had no bills to pay
This a real ‘f’ deal!
He had made yet another catch
From his naïve victims
Then came the shouts, and he roared back
“I better die, than resign”
That’s the closest he came to death
Makmende it’s said got choked
Maize grains stuck in the wind pipe
He staggered out of the ‘Royco Place’
To the Triton oil pump just across the road
As usual he drunk, and drunk, and drunk
Makmende then remembered the story
‘Highway To Sacharngwani’
And a fireball exploded in his belly
That’s when he started writing his ‘will’
To avert reprisals in his death
Son after the other got their share
From the shores of Indian Ocean,
To the water pillars of the great Mau
From the plains of Taveta hills
To the floor of Mt Kenya
Surprisingly, Makmende reserved his last catch;
The graveyards of Kitengela
That he and members of his ‘great’ dynasty
Shall lay in pieces! And find solace after
Leaving a trail of destruction
His short epitaph continues to tell the lie
“Your Super hero’s super hero”
Makmende, ‘Just A Brand’
Aurthor: MWANGI S. MUTHIORA
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