This smell of Lagos

There is this fascinating smell of Lagos
of worn out souls standing at 3rd mainland bridge,
whose eyes see no joy, no mouth knows a smile.
Of long distance walks in the never ending bridge,
just with chips and others for sake of the thing called living.

There is this fascinating smell of Lagos
of voices lost in the vast echoes of the city,
which now, is a whisper to grey night old men,
or the kro kro kro of frogs and so,
those whose legs just touched Lagos can't decipher their meanings...
They are the conductors of tu ke tu ke busses,
whose bus has forgotten what it takes to have a mother,
or never even had any.



There is this fascinating smell of lagos
of deserted souls, of wandering souls,
whose homes are far off,
those whose mother often visits the homes of seers
to pour libations and know if there child is still alive.
of souls whose homes are far off at Ijesha or Apapa,
yet offices in Ajah, Ikoyi or Lekki.

There is this fascinating smell of Lagos
of hold ups, clinging even in streets...
Of prices of corn (Okah) fluctuated that to purchase one in Lagos,
is purchasing four in Agbor...

There is still this fascinating smell of Lagos,
of luxuries, of happy souls, happy sad souls,
sad happy souls, all in same yellow painted bus...
There is money in Lagos, there is suffering in Lagos...
All are in Lagos and that is why there is this fascinating smell of Lagos.

© Chukwuemeke Bright Nduka.
(CBNwords)

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