And The Winner is…

As the car drove past there were many drawn faces by

The roadside, withdrawn, tired faces hanging on to a thread of hope

That the Mammy wagon painted yellow and Black would come their way

This same ray of hope would wake them up at 3.30 in the morning

Glide them through the smell of damp sweaty clothing, hanging on all manner of shapes,

Showing it to be a “corporate element”

Then through the weave of “compound’ and through the dingy winding foot path

Bush, marsh and then to the undulating road…

Sleep had learnt early enough in their lives, not to linger for long

There certainly would be deep sleep in the mammy wagon

Too much sleep and your purse or phone would travel on a spiritual

Journey never to return or you would be rudely

Awoken at “last Bus stop” by the Conductor

Some of these same people would be at the car park somewhere at about 7.00am

Hustling, jostling to get a better view of the “Iya Rasheed’s hot rice, Amala

Eba, Bokoto, Pomo and Meat, steam rising from the pot

And the flies beginning to buzz for their share of the booty……

One picks up his phone, looks around for an audience and begins to talk like

A “big man” “Hello Please, Yes please having a brunch here. Coming please”

Clears his throat and holds on tenaciously to his plastic plate, the lady in the second hand suit and long neck and bulging eyes…from years of lack and wanting, has her head cocked to the side…

Looking like she was forced to come….shouting “I’m busy, I’m busy Iya Rasheed hurry up..”

The area boys too ..huffing, puffing pouting and reminding themselves that rich people are lazy and must pay for their poverty…..

A broken window here and there and snatched handbag…

Really they say somebody must pay for their Father that ran away before they were born or their Mother that couldn’t take care of them or send them to school beyond Primary School

Indeed they say …somebody has got to pay…

Marijuana assures them all is well calms them and then reminds them of their fear and anger all over Again … somebody must pay…..they hope so

The young lady in her shinny over waxed car, basking in the euphoria of pseudo wealth has her nose in the air

Certainly someone must be watching, her gold, Liquid Matte Powder and human hair cannot go unnoticed……

Her swagger to the left and right on those platforms assure her that she is a celeb……

She pouts her lips to talk to everyone forcing vain femininity down your throat as you do your best to catch your breath from the ooze of 5th Avenue, Chanel and Gucci…. She never forgets to let you know …”You don’t know?? I live on the axis” She should have mentioned that she parks her car on the axis and takes a flying boat of N100 to the other side of the island where the water is still and there are no toilets or staircases or walkways or lawns just marsh…the platform SHOES are well wrapped in the boot of the car and the rubber sandals are on the move…blackberry in hand pinging chatting, I M-ing her way without looking as she had passed the marsh walkway so many times she CAN  pass through with her eyes shut, her DP still has the picture of her by the Empire state building…Thank you to Frank …who’s business it is to download  pictures of popular places and super impose PERSONAL pictures on them, still is there hope chiseled on her face… ?

The Boys in Black…are not left out ….they wear hope like a glove ,live by it…a kind of retail sales marketing /micro-finance strategy……a flag down, a greeting ,a smile or harassment ,some particulars ..No particulars

A handshake …a reprimand …a smile …and then a hand in the pocket …still there is Hope…

The man in his purple and white cassock, jumping shouting prosperity, whipping a mad frenzy ….it looks like shared malaria…….and then….. he lunges at the congregation… if you DO NOT GIVE …..then you have no faith…he huffs, he puffs…he blows the house down……..the HOPE STARTS to show…in torrents……

Still …there is hope!

By Ibä

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I envision Hilda’s Shoulder to be a relationship park-a place you go to learn, vent and share. I have another understanding of the word relationship -I don’t think it is for people dating only. A marriage is a relationship too, and one which needs great rela- tions in the SHIP called home!
Hilda’s Shoulder is a place where we virtually hold hands like - real friends should. If you want to come anonymously...we understand ..still come! Hilda’s shoulder is here for you!


Dear Hilda, is for informational purposes only, does not constitute medical advice, and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician, mental-health professional, or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition.
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