Although they don't question my name
How many times is it ignored in a stack of papers?
Strolling down the street you hear.
Mzungu!
I failed to notice when the colour of my skin changed
Might have to visit a doctor, better yet an optician.
The struggle to finding jeans that fit
Reminds me that one making life choices
For the next Summer, Autumn Winter collection
Never considers my coins.
I don't belong
When I watch the television.
I really don't belong when I visit the shops
And my hips refuse to comply with the measurements on the racks.
I don't belong when
Aki btw umetoka wapi?
Hio accent yako sio ya hapa
I don't belong
My mother blunt as she is once told me
You will never belong
So now I have learnt to belong in my not belonging
To spend visit back in Nairobi, assuring some people that
As my skin still appears black as night;
I am not and never will be a Mzungu,
Although my accent prone to change with the wind, can mimic the best of Nairobi
I've learnt to pick all the sizes of jeans and belts
In order to mould a fit to lay over my hips and thighs
Enough to make it through life.
In order to belong in my not belonging.