Nairobbery

Kenya — Silly poems for your backpack

He left his home,
No food there, no hope either too.

It’s better off on the street,
Where people will give you food.

But what about protection,
From those bigger kids on the block.

They’ll take a tax,
and maybe more, or beat you with a rock.

So you join a gang,
a group of friends, your own community.

But things get real,
And you realise, that there is no safety.

One gets robbed,
Another shot, and you’re still just a teen.

You’re the robber,
The gangster, who started off so clean.

There’s two ways now,
To carry on — recruit.

Or head back home,
To start afresh, before it’s you they shoot.

Nairobbery they call it,
It robs them of their lives.

While I travel, I enjoy writing a bit of poetry, mostly silly stuff, but all to remember the fun I had.

I publish them all on Medium, so check out my other poems here.