They cannot give me bank loans to buy a car, so I walk alone.
They think am shady, that my response to stimuli is distasteful and that I will not give back their money plus a small 16% they call interest.
My interest though is that they leave me a loan, not leave me alone to perform my voyages and escapades like a deadly wolf that is lone.
Maybe they cannot fund objectives that comprise resources that will facilitate increasing the distance between their money reservoirs and me, they want me close by.
Therefore the distance between scarcity and me narrows and I have to engage chastity because women do not engage men with shortcomings and paucity in these streets of city almighty.
My shoes scream worn-out, my stomach grumbles hunger-stricken, the banks laugh of their money-oriented jokes.
If we all own cars, who will stroll on the sidewalks? If we all own planes, who will use the roads and rails? If we all get rich, who will be left to chase ambition, complain about the government and pray?
So I grab my piece of peace, strengthen my feet, fate and faith. And work and walk to my grave.
Words: Dennis Peters
Photography: Mukiri Gitiri
[Mukirivity– Ingenious art and text made comparative]