and her daughter.
she dragged her feet,
as if plagued by the whole world.
she carried her shoulders so!
a million years just to take a seat.
we were impatient,
the usual Lagos spirit.
but they were different, very.
we couldn’t wait to be on our way,
moving along to nothingness.
something kept Mama.
something very heavy .
Could it be the years of toil.
or maybe years of drudgery and defense.
Maybe life finally making itself known.
she dragged those feet.
secretly wishing she could hurry on.
completely avoiding impetuous notices,
these feet just wouldn’t!
and then daughter spoke.
with understanding, she hurried to help.
knowing the pain:
feeling the weakness,
sharing the embarrassment and hurt.
These feet wouldn’t just!
On she dragged them,
wishing for a quiet space.
on the corner of the street,
on the bus with tight seats.
Age just wouldn’t let her.
Yet, we all mumbled!
“would this woman just get along”
Oh! she dragged those feet.
Next to her, daughter took her seat,
embarrassed, humbled and pained.
this was maman; “my Maman.”
they belonged to the caste.’
that crazy belief that people from certain tribes
were beneath others:
a certain degree of “less”
Yet equal, maybe superior in strength.
together they bore with humility,
the shame of age and caste.
of difference and pain.
then they alighted
from the human trap ridden with impetuous vermin.
happy to be rid of the superiority of nothingness
an ambiguity caused by ignorance and foolishness!
Yes! she dragged her feet still,
finally to her place of rest.
while i was left,
a passenger on the human trap: time-laden,
hurrying to our nothingness
she dragged her feet, hurrying to her kind.
leaving me forlorn,
unbidden tears my own daughter,
Still! she dragged her feet.