Efter ye cam back fae Malawi,
A kent mair aboot thon muckle lan o
bens, lochs an singin folk,
the warm hairt o Africa.
A kent elephants jist see black an white,
thir is a derk side tae hippos,
that crocodiles wir gliskin by yer boat.
Wimmen cairry caur batteries
oan thir heids lik bunnets.
That muckle oan thir heids,
the world oan thir shouders.
A kent aboot the potter, dauncin by his table o pots.
Aids orphanage boays wi black smilin faces,
whae mimed an daunced,
Sang, here we dig graves for our mothers,
Bury her in the soil, sing her spirit to Heaven.
A kent aboot the scuil wi nae winnocks or lichts,
twa thoosan weans, an this rule fir the maisters
Arrive early, ye'll get a plastic chair,
arrive ower early an gaither leafs
tae redd oot the cludgies.
Efter ye cam back fae Malawi,
ye gied me widden bangles
carved intae lik the kintra ye'd seen
British, French, Belgian, Dutch.
Efter ye cam back fae Malawi,
the dry cleanin lassie said
aboot yer jaiket cuffs,
reid edged wi desert saun,
this'll mibbe be indelible.
An A kent she wis richt.
Efter ye cam back fae Malawi,
A wunnert, as we lay thegither
in wir clean bricht hame,
hoo much is a mishanter o birth.

By Liz Niven