Tuesday, November 25, 2008


Women jiggle
In song and folkrole
A role,
They cannot ignore,
Behind the Nsima shore.

Then, the birds
In unisom fly
The giant steps of a beardsome being, as they bing bong
Bing, bong,
Over the clay Katongo clay

Over the mouse head,
Silently chopping the remnants,
Of the once mighty sand clay,
All gone,
Together with the wind

The Southerly winds,
Went with father
His soul to vacate,
There is darkness in the room
Darksome all faces look,
A giant is gone

His wife; the gone man
Pamtondo will speak,
And pounding,
The sound of sorrow.
No, there is happiness in pounding too
The marriage of the last born-memories,
Also freely flow

Home of all,
Sad, be it glad all,
Mother pounds in thoughts away
Last time, her finger into ashes went,
Pounded in thought,
At the huge Kachere tree,
As she pounded memories away,
Good thoughts and bad alike

Pamtoindo: the Malawian way
Where all memories have a way,
And in thought mothers mire,
So free,
And far away,
Just at the pamtondo tree,
The Goriath Kachere tree


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