Third World Country

He rustled through the documents perfunctorily 

Before he dragged out of the room with a gloommy face 

And then …. nothing

They left us to ourselves

Wait… wait…. wait

The clock ticked away

The silence in the room was thick

You could cut through it

The wait was frustrating 

And it brought back the old cruel memory of the past

There was about seven of us in the qausi conference room

We busied ourselves with our toys – laptops, phones, tablets, pen and paper

A tall good looking lady was fiddling her black long braids

Another young man looked so disinterested, he rested on his chin half-asleep

And there was a frustrated young mother doing all she could to keep her three-months old baby hush and calm. She danced to imaginary tunes, pacing to and fro the room

We pretended all was well, too civic to make a scene, disappointed but calm

No one said a word to another. No questions asked

Deep down the thoughts were the same, our fears were similar

When shall we be attended to ?

Will I make it out of here in time for my flight ?

What exactly is going on ?

Does anyone here really care about us ?

Why’s, when’s, what, …Mtcheeewwww

These questions are why I left motherland

Seven oceans and a million tribes away

I still face the same gloomy questions

No answers nor an answerer

Thirty two paged green coated armed cover piece of passport

Which holds my only tie to the Niger-area of West Africa

Was all it takes on a very cold morning in solitary Canberra 

To awake me up from my fantasy and remind me 

That afterall I’m still from a third world country

©Pensoul 2017

Your Honour

 

In this time and age.

I’ve noticed something strange.

 

We live in a world of judges.

They stone you hard you can’t dodge.

 

Progress haters.

Beauty “slayers”.

 

Jury pass their verdicts.

Without asking what the matter is.

No deposition, No investigation.

They bang their gavel of condemnation

Smacking with utter indignation

Like seriously!

We do it as if we’re no human.

Or the “accused” is born of no woman.

 

Damn!

 

Who poisoned our organs?

Why do we live like pagans?

 

I don’t know.

Honestly, I don’t.

 

“That cry is crocodile’s”.

“That “miracle” is make-believe”.

“Third abortion, you reckon?”

“High on weed, I think”.

 

Excuse me your Honour,

Are you that straight?

Are you a saint?

Born with no sins?

So sweet, no shit?

Bull shit!

 

Your Honour,

You don’t even know me

But you’re so quick to judge me

How you judge that, your Honour?

 

I think I’m a girl

My mirror says I’m not

My mum doesn’t understand.

And my friends say I’m nut.

Yeah, I know it’s weird.

But please don’t rub it in.

 

Your Honour,

I didn’t choose alone to live

I once loved, married and made love

But I was used, abused and refused

Now an accused?

Good!

 

Do you know why I wear the skimpy dress?

Do you know why I smoke the pot?

Do you know who sired the baby?

Do you know what it takes?

To work like hoe, live in a hole, with no hope

Tell me if you do.

Or stop playing God

 

Let me ask you, your Honour

Do you know the pain of a single mother?

Do you know the fear of a “sinner”?

Do you know the future of men like me?

Do you really know my pain?

Tell me, will you walk in my shoes?

Have you ever been raped?

Of your tomorrow and your virtue.

Am I here because of what I did?

Or because of who I am?

Your Honour,

Do you really need to judge me?

When last did you pray for me?

Or am  I beyond prayers now?

You know what?

 

No more questions,

I rest my case.

©Pensoul2017

Image: Google Image(edited by Pensoul)

SAME TERMINAL

We shall all end up at the same terminal, my dear friend

I know how worrisome it is

Especially when you see some of our old friends

Who seems to have it all together, really quick and smooth.

And I know there are times you wish that that is you

Listen, in the voyage of life we are all passengers

Some take the front seat

Some can’t afford to sit, they stand

Some sit alone, carrying no baggage

Some sit where they just have to manage

Some come prepared with heavy extra luggage

Some hide in the trunk,they can’t afford to pay.

Some take the early departures

Some of us had our flights delayed and shifted several times

The good thing is, we are all heading for the same harbor.

You see, delay is not denial.

Time and chance happen to all men.

I’m not trying to excuse failure.

You are not even a failure, unless you stop trying.

You need to understand that the quality of a man’s life cannot be measured by the abundance of his possessions.

The most important things in life are not things.

The Journey of life is not always based on how far.

Please my friend, wherever life has conducted your seat.

Make sure you enjoy and appreciate every single moment of it.

Do not sleep off during your journey, stay awake, and do not be terrified by the bumps and thrums of life.

Your destination is not affected by the class of your flight.

It’s not where you seat that matters, but where you stand in the end of your journey.

Refuse to allow the things you don’t have to rob you of the things that are freely yours.

And when it’s time to alight, you should, with highlighted smile, step down. Not minding whether or not you have a big luggage, because you’ve realized that the things that count in life, cannot be counted. And the real essence of life is a life that never ends.

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