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  Bamnuku wakes, ready to address the people,

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He dons his finest Italian suit and sets sail for the public square

The hustle and bustle of the public square stands in stark contrast to his elegant attire,

His brown Camuto shoes match the dark-brown colour of the soil,

“We need roads to make the most out of our toil”,

“We need electricity to run the cassava mills”

“And big books to bestow upon our children”

The crowd remains indifferent to Bamnuku’s words,

Bamnuku continues to proclaim for all to hear,

But no one seems to want to listen.

Bambira wakes in a shed,

He dons his thrifted t-shirt, ready to address the people,

The entropy of his spirit matches the energy of the public square,

He yells,

“I know what you want”

“You want more alcohol to make you forget your problems”

“You want more cassava to fill your stomachs”

“More clothes to don on Sundays”

The square falls silent,

The crowd yells “Huzzah” to his words,

Moved like never before.

Bambira and Bamnuku want to be village chairperson,

Their names both cast in the polls,

The polls speak and the people want Bambira,

For Bambira, speaks in wants and not needs,

For Bambira speaks to please and not to grow,

Sadly for Bamnuku

His words could not resonate with the crowd,

For he lives in a country of peasants and not poets.