Hamza Haji: A Little Lazy

So, who are you?

She says with a crooked smile, A smile that doesn’t last,

A smile that quickly turns into an anxious grin,

Hamza, I say.


She leans closer,



HAMZA, your grandson.

She looks at my face for a minute,

You are a liar;

Hamza never had a beard,

Hamza was not this thin,

You are a lying strange man,

Please don’t harm me,

I am just an old woman.


No, I am not a liar,

I mutter to myself,

Yes, I was fat and beardless,

But that was when 1 was two,

And you knew everything and everyone.


My grandmother never told stories,

She said only lazy people had time for stories.

Whenever I asked for stories,

She would give me a jembe,

And teach me how to weed.

Or take me for a walk, in silence.


How I wish she was a little lazy,

How I wish she told stories,

How I wish she could take me for a walk,

How I wish she could still remember me.

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