Would You . . . ?

By Sitawa Namwalie

Would you wield a panga in Burnt Forest, and cut a stranger down?

You slashed that man as he pleaded with you for life.

Instead you led the crowd baying for his blood

A stranger you did not even know.

He cowered and cried out, bleating like a lamb

Innocent of any crime

Death unwilling to take him,

He died long and hard, way before his time.

His blood has watered your farm like acid rain.

How will you live?

Would you?

Would you catch a running girl?

Escaping a church fire in Eldoret?

Place her roughly on the burning pyre

A parody of father, tender, laying his baby girl to sleep, on downy bed.

No lullaby can drown her keening dread.

Her fear of eternal coming sleep

Your pitiless face did not soothe.

Now you must be careful for your child.

Would you?

Would you seek a loving wife and give her one-hour to leave her home?

Depart from all she knows and those she loves

And go where?

You do not care!

And you call that an act of charity

When she pleads with you to kill her then,

To wield a blunt blade,

Carve out her heart!

For all is lost,

At 59 where does she go to start again?

You stood resolute

You did not yield

Would you?

Would you turn against your neighbor’s son?

The one who lent you salt in halcyon days,

That same who nursed your wounds and soothed your troubled heart

And flush that son out of his hiding place

And hand him over to certain death,

Ignore beseeching eyes of your neighbor friend

Who stands too stunned to make a sound?

Now your own son is done,

Would you?

Would you serrate your friend with words of hate?

Spoken cruel to cause a mortal wound,

She’s the one you used to call a chum

Your careless hatred has sown seeds of harm

Now you stand alone in fulsome deed?

Would you?

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