Cheptwakin: A River of Memory

Beneath the skies of Maliki, where whispers played,

River Cheptwakin, your ripples swayed.

You bore our laughter, our youthful cheer,

A lifeline of joy, ever flowing near.

The dawn would break with a cow’s low call,

Alan and I, through morning's sprawl,

Took turns to tread your grassy bed,

Or stayed to tend our hearth instead.

With skipping hearts, we’d skip our meal,

Guided by play's unyielding zeal.

Barefooted bands by the river met,

With teams from blocks, our lines were set.

Your waters sang as we took our leap,

Swimming with fish, your secrets deep.

Where snakes would hide in shadowed greens,

Our courage swam in youthful scenes.

Yet cows, unguarded, would wander free,

Their mischief wrought in plantations’ spree.

The sting of beatings met our jest,

A small price paid for the games we blessed.

Lunch abandoned, the hours flew,

Our skins turned white as dirt withdrew.

Your muddy embrace, a timeless balm,

Gave us peace, untainted calm.

But now, the land that kissed your banks

Is carved to pieces, ranks by ranks.

Your waters fade, your voice grows faint,

A dirge of sorrow, a fading saint.

Oh, Cheptwakin, our childhood’s muse,

We sing your praises, yet mourn the abuse.

The fields are gone, your pulse now weak,

A hollow silence where we used to speak.

Still, your memory flows in our veins,

Through life’s joys and growing pains.

The past may wane, but it always lingers,

Etched in time by youthful fingers.

Cheptwakin, you shaped our core,

A river of dreams, forevermore.

Though loss remains, your spirit survives,

A beacon of love in our fleeting lives.

©Bunguswa™