He came to print and photocopy certificates,
Fresh from graduation just a month ago.
His heart was brimming with hope,
Believing the world lay open at his feet.
He spoke of job prospects with confidence,
Not in the fields,
Not under the Jua kali shades,
Not in the corners of dusty shopping centers,
But in gleaming institutions and multinationals,
In the bustling heart of cities and towns.
Yet he didn’t know those dreams were mirages,
That farmers, too, are graduates,
That artisans under tin roofs hold degrees,
That shopkeepers behind counters know universities.
But it was his time to speak,
His time to dream aloud.
When he left,
Ms. Kamau chuckled softly,
She, with her degree, was a primary school teacher.
Njoroge shook his head,
He, with his degree, ran a small shop.
In truth,
The audience this fresh graduate spoke to,
Had all walked the same path before him.
He didn’t know they were well-versed,
In the long, hard road of tarmacking.
