You move in slow motion
Like there’s no urgency
Yet you cause a commotion
When Muzungo pass you in the street
You speak so softly
We miss what you’re saying
Until we enter town centre
Where you expect us to be paying
It’s contradictory
We sometimes are relaxed
Welcomed and absorbed
But the stress picks up heat
When we’re heckled
Grabbed and yelled at
Yet somehow even with this invite
We never want to leave