Saturday, February 25, 2017

An Ode to a Place I Love


Every street is lined with churches and churches are as full the gutters that line the streets. Religion is a way of life yet people are gripped by superstition. One-line sermons are scrawled on the back of taxis, yet tro tro mates* hurl abuse at passengers.
At night mosquitoes become busy, bothering every bit of flesh they can sink their teeth in. In the day, the flies take over. Spreading their dirt and germs on everything they land their wearied bodies on. They don’t stop.  They are as busy as market sellers hawking their goods.
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