Mukoma Wa Ngugi

The Flaying

For whom do I sing my tizita? Easy enough
to say let those with eyes see or those who
can touch feel. The wail of a guitar and the whip
snaps. The masenko this one-stringed devil,
the nyatiti a furious river truncated and denied
an ocean, the ngoni a tongue half cut to sing
the better. My tizita is self-contained like a grenade.
So I run my singing tongue along its grooves for you.