Along
the streets in worn out clothes
With my head hung in
a noose
Of hunger, ache and
cold
I walk
As my intestines
growl,
I turn in every next
corner
Searching for a Buka
As I crave for the
mild heat
Of Mama Buka’s
Hundred naira rice
and fifty naira beans
For how long will
this meal satisfy my hunger?
Along the streets of
lined up hostels
With a degree in mind
Into their corridor
Proudly I saunter
with dreams of graduating
My only euphoria
My awakening
My plague
Of my ulcered stomach
and emptied cupboard
I am reminded
So, to mama Buka
I run saying:
“Mama Buka, give me
hundred naira rice
And fifty naira
beans"
Along the streets of
joblessness
In worn out shoes and
a first class degree in hand
I walk and scout.
For another aptitude
test
Another interview
Another screening
I scout.
Yet, nature pardons
me not
Another growl,
Another groan and
rumbling intestines
With nearly emptied
pockets
To a nearby Buka, I
walk and say:
“Mama Buka, put
hundred naira rice
And fifty naira
beans....
For how long?
Along the streets of
menial jobs
In clothes turned
brown and skin turned ashy
To mama Buka's
umbrella, I scamper
Yet nature pardons me
not
Another ache
Another growl
Another groan
From a half day’s
job,
Exhausted have I
become
For my degree sates
me not.
So, to mama Buka, I
say:
“Give me hundred
naira rice
And fifty naira
beans....”
For how long?
Along the streets of
struggle
To survive makes
minds boggle
From the richè et
chic, I cower
For I see myself
lower
Beyond these hatches
I see a ray of
light,
Of hope and of
promise.
For the end shall
come
Of aches and
struggles
Of pain,
Of hundred naira rice
and fifty naira beans.
Yes, this too, shall
pass
For near is the end
of this end.
Glossary
Rich̬ et chic РRich
and classy
Buka -
Hole-in-the-wall restaurant commonly called mama put
Mama Buka – The owner of Buka