By Nyana Kakoma | July 11th, 2014

Photo by Edward Echwalu
Photo by Edward Echwalu

In my home, legal lies are scripted by the legal eyes to legalise my demise.
In my home, my roof of shelter leaks, and through the crack seeps a slime that prohibits my speak.
The kitchen from where I eat is where the providers cheat and take my lot for their own keep.


Where has our nature gone?


There was a time when words once spoke to the soul of man,
When sun of man learnt the chemistry of one.
When the strings around land were dust and feet.
Now the strings turned shackles are boots and concrete.


Humanity seems to stream on by, suffering an up waterfall climb.
Losing limb after limb… until nothing is left of kinsmen!
Scum has become the well we choose to drink from.
Deceit is the key so now we live to conform.
Ill-hearted darkness now becomes the norm.
And in the belly of our envy, the greatest evil is being reborn.


Our children are fed on brain drain and heart starvation,
Wrapped up in the beautiful bow pack of education.
Left to zombie the streets and litter the air with frustration.
Then we feel proud when we call them hooligan!

Slowly in the comfort of our thorny nest,
We fertilize our disconnect…
Our disconnect from our branch to trunk,
From trunk to root, from root to truth.

Our root has dried loose.


But who is to blame?
Us or those who we choose to rule us?
The rebels or those that feed the rebels gun lust?
Murderers or poverty’s card of injustice?


Or is it them?

They silently place their foot on your mouth.
They bib you and force you to feed their rout.
They embrace your hands and feet with shackles,
And blind your sight with their eye.

Their words are great weapons wielded with precession.
Their actions are in the open… as if a subtle warning
Dare to speak and you will follow soon.
So hush we go silent, but fester a storm.


For one day, a voice will come riding with a chant.
One day the spirits in the people will come out
One day the papers cast will finally count.
One day the mummified leaders will not politic about.


One day the marginalized will realise the players lies,
One day the children will see crystal clear through their own eyes.
Yet one day,
One day they will chop off the lips of he who sings of one day.
And one day, they will forget the sad song that was sang for this day.


Ugandan Poet, Jason Ntaro is a member of The Lantern Meet of Poets. He owes them his introduction into performance poetry and written poetry.

‘In high school I just did Literature to meet girls… I was from a single sex school and thought the best way to meet girls would be through poetry!’ he says.

You can find his poetry on his blog jntaro | voice and on Facebook. Ntaro usually performs at Poetry in Session every Last Tuesday of the month and  Open Mic, every first Tuesday of the month.



  1. […] provocative piece that salts our wounds and pierces our collective conscience. Jason Ntaro, in One day, someday will be this day, asks; “But who is to blame? Us or those who choose to rule us? The rebels or those that feed the […]

  2. Kemigisha Michelle
    December 3, 2019           Reply

    How often are these blogs or websites updated, or is it just that most celebrated poems are of 4-5 years back?

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