NSIYALEETA

NSIYALEETA

He could earn his living by fixing
Whatever went wrong, preferably
Used-up latrines, broken walls and dysfunctional pool tables.

Nsiyaleeta would occasionally peep through Mawejje's latrine hole
To check the depth there remained
So he would predict when to drill a new pit for him
He did this as frequently as his poverty pressed him;
One doomed evening as he risked
His wide nose against the all-pervading miasma
To face the familiar hole with accustomed eyesight,
Mawejje appeared, club in hand, and barked at him—
The former no longer needed the latter
He had had an alternative, it was said
That he had in the morning hired a septage technician
Whose vacuum truck drained the excrement away
So my poor Nsi had no job this time!

Vexed, Nsi ran into Kasumba's close
Tarrying between the verandahs of that great mogul
To check for crevices in the walls;
An askari appeared, gun in hand, and barked at him—
The former no longer needed the latter
He had had an alternative, it was said
That his boss had installed brand-new lightning conductors
To guard his buildings against thunder cracks
So my poor Nsi had no job this time!

Vexed again, Nsi ran to the casino
Laden with tongs, screw-drivers and a hammer
To check if there was any pool table to repair
The chief gambler appeared, phone in hand, and ignored him—
The former no longer needed the latter
He had had an alternative, it was said
That all his mates had created betPawa accounts
To start placing online bets instead
So poor Nsi had no job this time!

Vexed the most, Nsi felt himself a broken item as well
He had sought what to repair and found none
He sought again, this time deeply, and found one: 
He repaired his broken self. How?

Nsiyaleeta hammered his own skull and dropped dead!

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