from A Cock Crows in Rwanda
Usually, beloved, I crow,
And my name is Rusake the Cock,
The same one most people chow down on,
Especially my delicious neck.
I’m at every wedding,
And on every chief’s table,
Everyone likes me.
Let me come crow the story of Rwanda.
I witnessed bad times,
I travelled to many countries,
And in each I asked
Where the tragedy that decimates
The Rwandese came from.
Nations were watching.
Rusake, I’m sorrowful.
Can I ask you for a favour?
Protect me from insatiably hungry people.
I want to crow my troubles, first.
And then those who want to eat me may.
I know that if I leave,
If I leave this place without crowing my troubles,
You won’t say anything about it,
You will just enjoy eating Rusake.
About this poem
This poem, representing Rwanda, is part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.