Wajinga, we're mad about Kenya,
The country, the people, the game.
The mossies have bitten us too many times,
We'll none of us be quite the same.
We'll sing and tell each other stories
Reminisce through a day of good cheer,
And sit outside in the afternoon
With a Tusker Larger beer.
Are you mad with an affection
For some precious memories you hold;
The ones you will not let tarnish
Not even when you are old.
Then you will know the feeling
And the fervor that we share
When we let our heart strings quiver
At the treasures we have lying there.
Our ranks are growing thinner now
And some of us have passed away,
Those East African enthusiasts
With whom we used to play.
Wajinga is what they call us,
Wajinga, that is the name,
We sing the old Swahili songs
Again and again and again.
Wajinga - from jinga - foolish inexperienced plural “wa” - Swahili. Hence mad people!