A mere drizzle last night
and this morning multiples
of tiny pools have formed
outside my door. Fetid, because
floodwater mingles with sewage
oozing from the leaky septic tank.
Garbage heaps clog drainage
channels and floodwaters reverse
into unfortunate streets
that haven’t seen electric light
in donkey months so power-generating
sets compete for the noisiest prize.
I wade through putrid pools
and on my way out get
trapped in a traffic jam.
Broken exhausts spew fumes
straight into my lungs,
give me watery eyes.
Hawkers stick their wares in my face
and this cure-all medicine dealer’s
spittle settles on my right cheek.
From the inner streets
worshippers’ loudspeakers
give me tinnitus.
Now a cantankerous commuter
duels with a danfo driver
over fifty naira change.
Across the road keke
drivers war with agberos
over illegal ticketing fees.
Blood smears tar as okada fleeing
uniformed extortionists claims
an unlucky pedestrian’s left limb.
Wallahi, this city is a circus
show it’d be fun to watch
if it wasn’t killing.
Excellent use of imagery. I’m intrigued by “donkey months”…the sound of it resonates.
Thank you for your kind words.
The description in this is so vivid it brought me right into the chaos of it all. Loved the way you made such a unique scene into something anyone reading could experience with you. Also, that last line really tied it all together in a way that gives a whole new perspective to the entire scene – makes me reconsider how I read and interpreted all of it, and that is amazingly done.
Very many thanks for your comment. I’m encouraged.
You’ve created a vivid picture for me. Wished you would have started using some of the local language earlier in the poem — appreciated its use toward the end.
Thank you. It’s still work in progress.