BY GATHONDU MWANGI

Spring was stalling when we last spoke,

You told me about the grove we planted last year,

The hybrid hass-fuerte seedlings, fast-growing,

High-yielding, drought-resisting,

Now all dead or drying,

After the rains, the long ones, failed, again,

This avocado grove another entry to add

To a long list of sorries, that includes,

An abandoned wife, and four children,

One of them an infant still.

Later you’ll meet another mother, whom you’ll also abandon,

Though in truth it’s hard to tell who abandoned whom.

The line’s unclear, my airtime depleted,

You say we’ll try again, later this year when I return home,

For another planting season in Naro-Moru,

We’ll try again, yes father, we’ll try again.

Gathondu Mwangi is a geographer who occasionally dabbles in poetry. He spends his time between Massachusetts and Kenya, his home country.

Process Note: Nothing is assured in farming, despite the hard work that goes into preparing and caring for the crops that form the livelihoods of farming households. I was reflecting on the multiple losses that our family, like many families, has been through, which was accentuated by my physical separation from the place I call home. Besides loss, there’s also hope, which keeps the farmer returning to the field each planting season.