The Traffic Warder of Wuse

 You were a fixture at the junction

eighteen years ago, I in the midst of my struggles,

you pot-bellied, with fair skin of the southerners

I passed you then not caring, non-seeing, I was in the midst of my struggles,

I passed you when I went from Gwarimpa to Wuse 

To  the plaza 

To the market,

To work

When I searched for work

in those bleak days of Sky Memorial        

You were there planted, firmly on the tar intersecti0n

5 years, 10 years, 15 years 

you were still  rooted at the spot and then I wondered what made you rise 

day after day, 

with eagerness, and happiness

that turned to despondance and dread

and then heaviness and weariness

as you saw years of life, fly by in minutes and days,

you looked thin, and scruffy, and i wondered if you were sick

or if you had stepped on an oga's toes for you to be banished to the  spot forever

I saw you today, at another spot, hurry, you had moved, 

I threw you some notes and you uttered in a guttural voice Thank you, Madam,

I noted sadly, how we had all aged, sadly.