the footpath

“This City is what it is because our citizens are what they are.”
-Plato

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We set a footpath in the middle of the main road,
To meander in between
the puddled potholes car-wheel deep.
The Governor was here five years ago,
so the bushes have overgrown, since his last campaign.
There’s a strip of grass in the middle of the road,
it’ll also be cleared when the governor comes.
I remember how the governor’s visit disturbed the village peace in a frenzy,
I heard them drumming it,
and dancing in its tune,
I saw them abandon hoes,
and the milking pails
To receive the ‘honored guest’
In dismay the cows moored
and the calves belted,
and the sheep,
but who was to hear?
Hoes scrapped off grass and weeds;
slashers slashed the bushes…
That I saw then.
The other day a motorist stuck here,
Another swayed into the bush, God, save that school kid!
Who almost lost her life.
The children mud their way to school,
At times bare foot in the dew;
yet we still wait for ‘our guest’;
to clear the road and slush the bushes!
“Perhaps we’ll clear during a funeral.”
I heard the elders say!

Author: biko

A story monger; keen to pick on the details as he goes about it all. He finds fun in making the written feel like it was just spoken. So to say sarcasm and reality often race in between his lines, one slightly outrunning the other - pick your take.

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