Growing Up Poem by Job Ombati

¹Growing up in the countryside,
Was fun.
Romping the hills and valleys,
Race climbing
trees,
Riding homemade barrows,
Sliding down wet slopes with bare buttocks.

⁶Life was a thrill trove.
A boxful of surprise.
It was fun growing up.

⁹It was fun making friends,
Discovering new frontiers,
Teasing girls.
Girls playing 'mama',
Boys being taught to whistle,
Following tractors as they roared into the village.
It was fun swimming in the village rivers,
Fishing 'chingonye',
And doing all childhood held
in her open palms.
Growing up was far too good.

²⁰Growing up
Was tough though.
The 3 miles to school and back, barefoot,
Wasn't easy.
But child innocence-like love,
clothed it all.

²²Danger crouched behind every favourite bush.
Ring running on gaping water tanks,
An occasional friendly brawl,
And turning up with a punched up eye,
for mother's disapproving inspection.

Growing up was simply fabulous!

Poems for Humanity