Who will speak for us?

Bicycles bump in pot-holed roads,

Riders pant from human loads,

Sweating like half-fried chapattis,

Young men cycle for a scrape;

But who will speak for them?

Wooden carts rumble along,

Their pushers break into song,

Singing in desperate tenors,

‘Matooke, Muwogo, Lumonde!’

Inviting buyers,

Lest their families lack a meal;

Young men ply the painted streets,

Dragging their feet beneath them,

And their degrees behind them,

Like broken down breakdown trucks -

‘‘Not fit for hire’’!

Young women dress to fit,

Scanty skirts and pointed shoes,

Crimson lips and scarlet nails;

But employers seek flesh;

That - sells more than qualifications;

Young graduate -

You can keep your papers!

Pregnant women rush to hospitals,

Babies kicking on the inside;

Yet no doctors

Attend them on the outside,

Bleeding, screaming; dying;

It isn’t in the politicians’ manifesto!

Wrinkled farmers till the land,

Gnarled fingers clutching hoes,

Their produce is up for grabs,

Peanuts they earn in return;

Who will speak for them?

Famished teachers in classrooms,

Their pay is but a pinch,

And that little, comes too late;

They teach droopy-eyed pupils;

Asleep – too hungry to learn;

But who cares about a child’s full belly,

It wasn’t in the Leaders’ manifesto!

Starved soldiers are on the march,

Their heavy boots unpolished,

Their rifles an unholy burden,

Defending a nation that won’t

Teach their children,

Or attend their sick mothers;

Their fingers sit on triggers –

Twitching;

But when the years clock five;

In their shiny suits,

The political tycoons,

Sweep down like typhoons,

And stand before us

Like a rebels’ platoon;

They say,

That they now have a manifesto;

Which isn’t really -

About teachers’ salaries,

Or soldiers’ welfare,

Or citizens’ dignity;

They say those things,

Are not urgent!

They say,

That Presidential jets must be bought,

And armies modernized;

That borders must be defended,

And regimes consolidated;

That MPs’ allowances must be met;

That our issues can wait,

For their manifesto

Has no more room!

So we turn to each other;

Shall we find solidarity

In our poverty!

Shall we find patriotism,

In our tears!

Shall we find security,

Under our beds?

Maybe we should all go to jail,

Where security is guaranteed!

Who will speak for the prison walls?

Which hold innocents against their will!

Who will speak for our dead soldiers?

Is it, the ghost soldiers?

Who will speak for our misspent taxes?

Is it, the potholes in our roads?

Who will speak for the bribes?

Is it the bribed?

Or is it the bribers?

But surely -

Who will speak for us?

If those political agendas

Refuse to minute our needs,

If they won’t speak of our cares;

Then we must hold our own meetings,

And pen our own manifesto!

This manifesto must not be fat and jolly,

It must be hungry and frantic,

Like us!

It must not drive around in posh convoys,

But must go barefoot,

Or at best - ride a bicycle

Like us!

It must be by us, and for us!

We – the Citizens of Uganda,

Must speak, for us!

Solomon Manzi,

Lantern Meet of Poets.

(November, 2015)

This poem was specially written and read at the launch of the Citizens' Manifesto Uganda 2016 - 2021: http://ngoforum.or.ug/power-belongs-to-the-people-2016-2021-citizens-manifesto-launch/