Madame Shiru

Madame Shiru
Gave herself away
So she could send

Dickson and Mary to school.

Then she fell sick

And work no more

She could.

Mathere is a slum

Two hundred thousand people live there

In stalls

On square plots

Circumferenced by sewers

Carrying away the morning soap

And evening sweat.

I said hello in Swahili;

A lady called back:

“We have Obama now.”

The Luo’s pay rent to the Kikuyu’s

But they destroyed Madame Shiru’s house

When Odinga didn’t win.

The people from the zinc-roofed church

Came to Shiru.

Or maybe she came to them.

They helped her gather a bit of courage;

They helped her piece together her house;

They helped her lift her hands again

To pray

This Nairobi Bethlehem

Would crack open

Its beaten, weathered soul

And prostrate forth its lavish poverty

Upon Your peasant wealth.

3 March 2009