Posted: June 8, 2018 by PaanLuel Wël Media Ltd. in Junub Sudan


They met at the streets of Nairobi city,

Down the slums of the city with vivacity,

They walked majestically with adversity,

They both wore white- old -torn- shabby raiment,

Not aware of their sentiment,

And with dots of life written on their faces,

They accolled each other vehemently in traces,


With ebullience she was cajoled to corymb on him,

Glued to his patched trouser like a black jack on the brim,

She exposed her black spots breast to hallowed him,

So that her thirst for money can be quenched,

Heh! What an epoch-making!

To the hern they went with audacity,

In between the walls of the city,

Succumbing to the cold temperatures,

They did it on the bed of green pastures,

Without any shame,

From the on-lookers witnessing the scene,



They‘re the sojourners of the street,

The street children of the hell city,

Embedded together, the cinema dispersed the on-lookers,

They intermixed themselves up in the heap of garbage,

In between the city walls,

And unto them, it was the promised land of their life,


After the scene,

They stood aghast looking at each other melancholy,

For their “business” have created bitterness gracefully,

He then blurted out,

“For five shillings, you can continue to sell your kuma”,

And to the thick dust of junk, he vanished,

He had eviscerated the deal,

And left to her was gibberish,

Just a vacuum of ardor that she cherished,



She was not abashed at all,

For that is the kind of life she lived,

She is no Johnny-come-lately to it,

For she has been a streetwalker for months,


She has been raped occasionally,

Poverty made her flee home dearly,

When she was only fifteen seasons,

Following the demise of her parents,

Hitherto, she was manhandled by her step mother,

Making her the donkey and horse of the house,

Her nose was noosed up with the hook of slavery,

Unheard of were her plights,

She quited home with these woes,

And as an orphan in the streets,

She fed on the leftovers disposed at the garbage,

She sniffed the cobbler glue in her underage,

She begged money from every human being,

She slept on the ngunia kind of mat in her being,

She became very loose of her womanhood,

She joined malayas to earn life,

Disillusionment was all that she got in return,

After a year of stay in that life,

She delivered a baby boy in the slum,

She wanted to kill the innocent child,

Due to the slaps of life she has faced,

Her spirit of guilty conscience spared the child,


The toddler was wrapped in shabby clothes,

The child’s health was at risk in shaky shabbiness,

She walked streets with the child at the back begging,

She fed the baby on every drop of leftovers she got,

The baby underwent all the scores of life,

Street life hardened the child as he grew up to endure strife,

For future was doomed to him,

For in his DNA is poverty,



The culprit who had coitus with his street mother,

In the beginning,

Resembled him dearly,

He was a street jungle too,

Exploiting sexually every single girl in the street,

An indication that he was the father of the borne child,

But since it’s a street thing,

The child is considered an outcast,



The child considered an outcast later,

Grew up in the footprints of his flaws,

When he was left alone to survive through claws,

Like leopards of the forest that survive through claws,

He later became a carpenter,

Under the God’s mercy through a passer-by in the city’s center,

Who picked him up after reading through his face the pangs of life,

He passed through in an early tender age,

Along the pavement of the banking hall rage,


He trained him to earn life,

And the son of harlot became successful thereafter,

Serving a wide range of people with his carpentry skills,

What an untapped potentiality,

That almost died with him in the streets of Nairobi!

(The above poem stresses on the plights of girls in the streets where they are molested and harassed sexually by the male-man. It also explains the reasons as to why children leave their homes and desire to live in the streets and finally the challenges that come along with the life in the street. However, since most of the victims found in this league get discouraged and feel that life is over, should be motivated to press on with life not forgetting God’s favor that every one of them can get. Their untapped potentiality will still be realized in the world one day the way that young boy born in street and raise in a slum became a carpenter and earn life. Don’t undermine anyone, stay tune in life and you will make it out of the tunnel finally. Get further analysis of the poem afterwards.)

(ADOL AKUEI, the author of this poem is student at Moi University, college of health sciences, school of medicine. You can reach out unto him through his email:

  1. Mabil says:

    Nice piece Adol.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s