Ba Chagrins Poem by Job Ombati

Having my earphones on and listening to the music of yesteryears.
The serenade golden voices and magical guitars with dexterity played.
Drums beaten with love and a godliness.
Of a past gone, they remind.
Tuneful beats of BA Chagrin's 'Topesanaki elaka eeh! ' calming weary nerves.
Like water slowly poured of a gourd - you can't get it back!

A past liltingly magical.
That the frail heart fears to summon back.
Possibly it may crumble like a dry loaf in one's hands.
Of a past of youth and supple knees, waists, shoulders!
A tranquil past.
And near-million futures.
Perfectly harmonic voices of OK Jazz's and BA Chagrin's perfect harmony.
In a past in the ever-green rolling hills.
Of faraway Lake Victoria.
Of the wonder of the language the lake people spoke.
And their love for Mbuta- What a stench to our blind eyes then!

An almost sacred past- hard to summon.
Of the Ba Chagrin's biphonic beats and 'Nataka kufa eeh! '
One that can't muster in bits like small crumbs of bread falling though spaces between fingers.
Of evocations of older brothers with their girlfriends. And...and this music!

Of a disgruntled mother and a never too easy to please father.
And how by the way did the tall friend of my elder brother look like?
Of years gone and never to return.
'Cherry kanisa kaka olulaka nagi na quartier! '

And now the climax - 'Nazoki na Molema aah ngo ya ooh! '
The brother and his friends singing along. Are they drunk?
Indeed, they teeter.
But the memories have stuck.
And more are being made in the hearts of the young listening heart.
Memories that will be branded in his near-and hard to be recalled now.
And if he tried to force them, they'll crumble though his finger.

When it will play, he will remember me.
Maybe with a sigh and if with a soft heart and the convenience of privacy, a tear too.
He will tell his children that I loved this song.
His taste, will, then, have matured.

© Poems for Humanity