Ngwatilo

The pothole is gone; the one I hit once
and remembered every other trip home,
knowing it was there when I passed
like a road sign. It’s been      recarpeted–
by the Chinese, mum says, only they
will fix a road in a day.

I drive over the spot to celebrate and mourn,
the same way you scatter soil over a coffin
before they cover it and leave you to collect yourself.
I thought the scar could not fade, even while they recarpeted
and paved and drained and lit the road to the UN.
I wish I had a picture of the hole to show, to remind myself,
because the story will be dull next week. Suddenly

it seems possible that Ngong road will become a dual carriageway,
that the pothole-cum dam opposite St. John’s Church in Pumwani,
on the California side just inside the T-junction will, in my lifetime,
lie under gleaming tarmac – no longer a marker for motorists. If I possess
some clout on that day, I shall like to name the street  “Old Calif Dam Way,”
so it will be possible to tell and retell the story.