CARE, NOTHING COULD BE SWEETER.

I peered through the cracked windows
of the rickety molue*
That looked like a rusty tin can
moving on some black rubber wheels.

She stared timidly, her large eyes
wild and yellow as the flames
of my wife's paraffin lantern at night.
The molue continued its snail's locomotion
as the traffic cleared like a smoke;

Suddenly she broke into a sprint
I was aghast. Her full cascade
of dusty hair flapping in the wind
She clutched her packets of lemon sweets.

... another of those Chadian refugees
hopeless and helpless kid
who eke out a living on Lagos busy streets
selling sweets; my thoughts reeled...

Hallelujah! The molue came to a halt.
She panted like a deer as she drew near..
. Sir, you want to buy sweet sweets?
Shouldn't she be schooling like my kids?
I nearly parried a no answer
when I realized that after
her race with the crawling molue
Her efforts were futile; (Maybe again).

Then I said, yes honey, please....
Her yellow eyes glowed like a rising sun.
How much you want sir, two?
All, I replied at astonished her.

I shared the packet of sweets with other
passengers who gasped at me rather queer.

*Molue: That is what Nigerians call a bus.

Copyright © 2004 Karo Umukoro

WRESTLING WITH X.P
For Paris Smather

Today again, mother did utter
in a withering voice as tender as butter
as she slurred: my dainty daughter
You are the fair princess of darkness
only you can wear the moon's silver dress...
But Mama, I wanna gaze at the sun
Arise from the azure blanket at morn
I don't wanna remain confined in the dark
I wanna hear the melodies of the lark.
Sometimes what we crave most; we won't have it
Dear, the dark screens you from the sun's heat,
Let your heart not melt in despair
Rather it should fly high in gaiety's air-

My fairest dear, who smiles so cute
Tomorrow I shall buy you a sunblock suit,
Then we shall bathe in the warm sea next summer
and behold the gold of dawn glitter!

Mama swayed away and I prostrated to pray:
X.P* go like a vile midday rain away today-
I wanna run with the yellow sun
For bright like a fluorescent is the morn!

*X.P. (Xeroderma pigmentosum) is a rare genetic condition that prevents sun-damaged skin cells from repairing themselves.

Copyright © 2004 Karo Umukoro

WMY 9/11 WISH

I am a loveless love child
born of the passion which once burnt wild like a bush-fire between two
estranged lovers one pale and stale dusk in September- 11th September,
'84. But my mother and father never tied the knot since their love's
hibiscus started to rot when I was born that sad September...

I had to live through the next seventeen years with mother- my
ebullient mother.
Mother whose splash of coal hair
billows smoothly in the mid-air
and flows down her broad shoulder
like a waterfall sprawling into a silvery river.
Mother's lachrymose eyes is darker than tar and the colour of her
smooth and succulent skin shines blacker than the feathers of a raven.
I am an egg in mother's fragile heart
She trembles to see me torn apart.

Every morn, when I rise before the sun I'd ask mother with tears
swirling in my eyes 'Why do father live far; would I see him
tomorrow?'
Then mother visibly shattered would slur in sorrow- "Ayo, your father
and I love you so...
But love is a flame; it could be smouldered Or could be ignited. Ours
was smouldered I hope that you'd understand when you grow older..."

Mother took me to see father
Like she does every eleventh of September But this September was
marred by a disaster, As we heard on our radio, the blue news That the
US twin towers have crumbled Like two peanut pyramids on a myriad of
race.

Father resides in Ancient Ibadan
A town with a cluster of rusty zinc
dancing in the dusty wind from rooftops.
Father brown eyes beamed like torch
-and mine melted into liquid like wax- when he saw me and I broke free
from mother.
Father flung his strong arms
around me, raising me like a kite high to the gentle breeze of his
affection.
As he swung me, I burst chuckles in the air:
Then I caught the glassy glimpse of tears glistening like diamond
beads in his eyes.

Sometimes, I wish to come to a crossroads and meet a parched,
famished, naked, wizened man sunk beneath a basket of cocoyams So that
I can scurry to help him bathe him, clothe him, then feed him- For he
could be a good spirit wandering through our ancestral land just as
mother recounts in her nightly stories.

When he'll decide to grant me any wish I won't hesitate before I
splutter- 'Beyond Earth's gold, diamond and silver I desire that my
father and my mother Shall be entwined in hearts again, this
September!'

Copyright © 2004 Karo Umukoro