August arrives
With its cold gust
Of golden dust
I am clad
In its jealous touch
Gaborone
To some
You are a black hole
That eats hope
And swallows homes
Maybe I’ve dodged it
The infestation
When the termites
Ravage the roots of my heart
From the urban shoots
Of city life
I watch my friends
Struggle under the rubble
Of the current recession
They are made redundant
Overworked and underpaid
Living paycheque to paycheque
Or off the legacy of their parents
Who prospered
Before the turn of the century
The irony of this century’s economy
They are better read than their family
And have little means to carry
Them into the future. Like the unwanted
Child they escape
To the Middle East
Or take refuge
On the islands of the North Sea
They tell immigration
All the stories
They need to never return
To this desert city
Corruption crawls in the crevice
Of cracked roads going home
Crime creeps into the cars
That tails the owner’s drive home
Tires slashed at the gate
Knives dance at the face
Transfers made to pay their wage
As the culprit wastes away
Knowing that
Their money is never returning
Home
I am blessed
To love a Gaborone
Where rain falls from Jojo tanks
Where power drips from sunlight
Where work flows from family calls
Ask and you shall receive
So I asked for leave
And I’m off
To the Disunited Kingdom
For all the same reasons
They escape
To prosper on greener soil
But I can never forget
The home of my heart
Auf Wiedersehen¹
1. Auf Wiedersehen: Until we meet again.
First published on The Kalahari Review
Samuel Rubadiri 