Their Eyes

As we walk down Wabera street,
Arms wrapped around each other

I see eyes
Curious eyes
Accusing eyes
Judging eyes
I see disgusted eyes
Everywhere we turn
Their eyes

At me
Then you
At me again they shift back

Talking eyes
Eyelids opening and closing like lips
Talking eyes
Eyeballs turning up and down like tongues

Why, how, what for?
Their eyes ask
Some whispering, some screaming out
It’s not right, you have no right,
This is a hideous sight; it’s not even yet night

I can feel their words crawling on my dark skin like a lizard onto a wall
Clinging onto my kinky swinging dreadlocks
Swarming my attire like bees on a hive

Their words like Ebola
Spread fast, inflicting your white, pink skin
Skin like that of a piglet
Long blonde hair like a sisal rope
Blue eyes like marbles

My eyes fight to talk back
How dare you?
How dare you accuse us?
How dare you judge us?

Barely whispering the last words,
Fear, shame, guilt, uncertainty
All start crawling
Just like their words
From the tip of my toe
Slithering up
From the longest hair of my locks
Gliding up to my scalp
Then down to my face

I cannot bear it
They are all plaguing my face
My eyes,
Taking me over
I lower my eyes
To hide the trodden look
As they invade my iris



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I have always wondered what goes on in the mind of an African Man who is dating a white woman as they walk on the streets or in public places. Does he wonder what people are thinking of him. Does it occur to any of these onlookers that he could actually be in love? or does he just let himself be swayed by the thoughts and gawking eyes of his tormentors.

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