No stars tonight, Just the usual cricket chorus.There is the smell of Wood burning. I think it is the smell of Rwanda’s organs Turning. This is a country Full of Raw, organic Existence. Life that Faces death And revisits it Everyday. Yet is determined to Defy the beast With life. In Rwanda, We take cold showers.The places where we gather indoors Smell of sweat. And humidity hangs with The utterances that Sound like running water. Sometimes the water Indoors doesn’t run And the lights all go out, So we dance and sing together. When the whirring of The sewing machines halt, We strike up a human orchestra. We let Our hands, Our feet, The rhythm of our own organs Keep the time. Ends
