How can you tell I’m fresh off the village trail?
Is it my deep Luo accent that tips the scale?
Or the way I gawk at tall city heights,
And marvel at kitchens with shiny delights?
You see, I’m used to thatched roofs and smoky air,
Not frequencies and gadgets, it’s quite a despair.
So, come on, tell me, why am I from the sticks?
Is it my bafflement when modern talk quickly ticks?
My fashion sense? Well, it’s work in progress, you see,
Since we first met, I’ve aimed for a style less “country.”
And when I stroll, do I look like a dog confused?
Checking out town girls, perhaps I’m easily amused.
Now, what’s that brown flour they put on their face?
It transforms them, adds a touch of beauty.
As for wooing their hearts, do I stand a chance?
Or must I sell ancestral land for romance’s advance?
So, my friend, tell me, how do you know I’m from the rural lot?
The village boy in the city, adjusting quite a lot!
@okelododdychitchats
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