Every time I want to go
Something tells me to stay
So far away from home.
Those who want to go end up staying
Those who want to stay end up going
So far away from home.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
homelessness
FALLEN THROUGH THE CRACKS
Originally I used to cover my face
I was new to the street
A freshly fallen angel –
Would old friends pass this way
And recognise me? Old colleagues?
Old neighbours with whom I shared
A beer and a philosophical hour
Reflecting on the vicissitudes of life
The changing destinies of human lives
Society, politics, the role of science in
Religion, male jokes about women
And feeling entitled to be fortunate.
Will they recognise me now, when
They pass this way and hurry past the
Wretched beggar on the street corner
Maybe throw him a coin but avoid his intrusive eyes?
Opposites don’t match, is their marching song
Did they recognise me in me?
But I don’t avoid their eyes anymore
The eyes of my yesterday
Not anymore
Not anymore.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
RETIREMENT
His pride is on sale
And his shame
And on his broad frame
You can see him bearing his fate
With a brave face on display
Seventy years of age
All his fears have come of age
His hopes, dreams, plans, crumbled
But now he’s picked himself up again
And sits at the south train station
Easel, paint-brushes, stool, low table
But he holds his head up high
Give him a smile and a coin
And he’ll paint a portrait of you
That will stand the test of time
He: You speak good german
I: Can I write something about you?
He: Yes, but no names please. I
Have a granddaughter in Darmstadt, who
Doesn’t know what I do to survive.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 