Passing the Torch
I furnish you with God’s greatest gift;
You will make of it what you perceive.
I bestow upon you
All that I am indebted to
And all the praise I did not receive.
I have for you my dream;
A life worth living
That is all I leave.
Step Town Bar
Devoid of duty, I sat in a bar overlooking Kigali city
I had nothing to do at that moment
So I drank.
I was amazed when my drink arrived;
The waitress was a beauty – the purest black ebony skin
And her startling braids fell so perfectly down her carved
A smooth voice floated from the table across
And I listened to their polite conversation
Though they didn’t speak of much
Just the Rwandan sun, the astonishing price of beer,
The clickaty-clack of the last milk wagon that went past,
The same old peaceful nothing people talk about when
they talk about nothing.
It was all backed up by the soft tuneful whistle of the chef
And to top it off the beer was cold and smooth and
It was just right.
I thought to myself; although I shouldn’t drinl
When everything is just right here why wouldn’t I?
The cleaner swept away the ever present dust,
The palm trees waved to me in the wind
Singing an early, polite goodbye,
And as I looked at the unnecessarily armed guard
He smile sweetly
Like he had forgotten his gun was even sat there.
I was so happy.
But then I got up and left
Said goodbye to the guard
Smiled goodbye at the neighbouring table
Finished my beer and thanked the waitress, settling my bill.
I guess I couldn’t stay too long
So I left when it was time to go,
But I’ll always remember the quiet contentment I felt so
clearly in that small bar
Overlooking Kigali city.
That is my last memory of Rwanda.