the fan

it blows
your smell
out my window
would a man
or woman
like wet clothes on a line
be touched
by the sun, the wind
for another wet day
into a dance
let this wind blow us
and now I am wet
from my cheek to my chest
for what is not fun
out my window no woman
or man
my door open, never locked, never looked in
I touch for fun
while the walls speak blue and ash
sleep will come in the morning with the sun
sleep will die with memory
it comes up to my throat and slides back down
as I sit under the fan

National running day

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

light of day too long
I stayed in masked from the sun
more generous then Accra’s can be
hot hot air kisses even at night

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

I took two shawls with me
to show just what I want
“where do I get this to buy,
where can I get a shawl? ”
they smile and hold my shawl
“no speak english” they say

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

is it national running day?
“bonsoir, bonsoir”
some turn to say
as feet run by and more
women and men and kids
jogging way past eight

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

bamako runs at night
maybe I too should run

running the streets of bamako
looking to identify

I run more than I should
now tired without any french
and when I stop to pant
I am found by an open store
“do you have shawls here?”
I grabbed a can of malt
“no speak English”
but how come you have lingerie?

running the street of Bamako
missing my red old car

he says something in french
and packs his bike by me
“do you speak english sir?”
he wears the Mali smile
he says something in French
and mumbles the usual thing
“no speak english”
I rub my forehead and stare

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

we both are stroke with laughter
me out of mere frustration
If only I couldn’t ask
why he too laughed so hard

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

maybe he speaks Twi or Ga or Ewe or Hausa
should I just say, “Charley!…
I need a ride to my hotel”

walking the street of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

I get on his bike
“slow sir, not fast, not fast !”
he doesn’t know where to head
“Azalai Nord-Sud” I try.
but my finger speak clearer
somewhere in the air it points
“Azalai Nord-Sud”

Riding on the street of Bamako
saying “yesu kristo!”

“take this turn sir”
I hit and hold his shoulder
he nods and turns to me
“Azalai Nord-Sud”
the lights encircling the sign
looks prettier than usual
“Azalai Nord-Sud”
he take his time to say
like a tired hopeful teacher
who wants me to made the grade
“Azalai Nord-Sud”

“Oui Oui”,
I jumped off his bike
just like I would at home
“thanks for bringing me sir”
“merci, merci merci”

I wave my purse at him
“how much please sir?”
“d’accord d’accord”
he takes my hand for his
“why sir, how much please?”
he rubs my hand and smiles
“d’accord d’accord”
he leaves

A thing we will forget

fathers who wash
sperms
from their pants
and wipe one
that made child
from their memory

Why I sit in the dark

Against popular notion, I think darkness is the brightest light. I used to sit in absolute darkness at night when I was a little girl. It’s hard to do that these days because well, I have a laptop now…:D

You would probably agree when they say darkness blurs your vision. I can’t say that’s my truth, because it doesn’t, from where I sit. In darkness, I see. I see everything and whatever I want to see.

I see monsters and then angels and my grandmother and uncle who teams up to beat the monsters. I giggle. For some strange reason, my angles never have wings, they are just really huge and they smile a lot. My grandma is a whole lot stronger that she carries me. My angels like to walk, around me, behind me, beside me in front of me… I have walking angels.

Darkness is where I gather my vision. In a really dark place when I am alone, I am almost sure I am not alone. There is a sound that I hear that I didn’t make. There is energy following and forward. Sometimes it is easier to look back for greater fear of what is in front. Sometimes I fear to look back because maybe what I don’t see won’t see me? LOL... I have learnt that wherever you look/whatever you see that keeps you going is where and what you should be seeing.

When a prayer, a kiss, or maybe just the fear of seeing what is hurtful, ugly, creepy, true gets you to close your eyes, you see the brightest light, darkness.

And there is

A cup of tea
at the end of the world
sugar by the side
tasteless and hot
it freezes your tongue
the smell,
like ice
on pepper
pinching your nostrils
for a sneeze
sneezing
hard till it become laugher
and abscond tears
running out your eyes

the poet’s inspiration

the poet’s inspiration
falls like an eye lash
and punches her core
till a line sits last
with grace
over images stringed
to hold her voice
in retaliatory quest
to spark you
like the lash did her

The gurl who says 'yes' to the annoying guy becomes the annoying gurl

Have you ever felt you are having an internal party? Your intestines, kidneys, lungs, your heart jumps hurray and your blood runs all over the place screaming in a language better than Spanish whispered into your ears in the middle of great… uhm, fill in the blank. Your eyes open a little wider when you smile, searching for the source of the music playing so loudly within you.

Life is about moments really, isn’t it? You spend time with people who can make you laugh and the strangest word become ‘stranger’. There are no strangers. The woman who makes laugh is the woman who makes you laugh even before you ask of her name. The warm guy is a warm guy though he bears a name you don’t know yet.

Smiles are contagious and sometimes it can whip up laughter only because you have no idea why a smile on another person makes you want to try yours on.

So this really nice guy sitting opposite me has an amazing smile and then he sticks his finger in his mouth, removes some slimy sticky particle and rubs it in his shirt. Absolutely disgusting!

Alcohol is a good friend, no, I’m serious. I don’t know how I would have survived the sight if I didn’t have my good old friend on ice.

I kind of lost truck of what I was saying didn’t I? Well, laugh now cos, I can’t find my way back. So you are stuck with me about to get ridiculously random. Do you yawn more when you are hungry or sleepy? Really, I love you too much to do this to you, I’ll write again, when I can make some sense, did you notice my title is not at all connected to this piece? yep! that was a whole different moment. I might tell you about that some day... :-D