Poetry: Okada

by Nneka Jethro-Iruobe

Oh Okada

 

The smallest of commercial transporters

Easy prey to bigger road users

Yet the most disobedient of traffic rules

Unbelievably blind to other road users

 

Okada! How I need thee

Okada! How I enjoy a ride with the breeze in my face

Okada! How I wish you were all sane

 

But it seems, it just seems

That at the point of purchase

You all are initiated into a cult of death

Riding like you’re looking for a crash

Squeezing between cars

Scratching, denting and even dislodging vehicle parts

 

Just yesterday I spoke in your favour

Advocating you be retained a road user

Because I believe its better to ride than to steal

But now you turn to bite the “hand” that feeds you

Landing me in a crash

You were neither chased nor hit

You just drove like the cult had signalled

it was time for another crash

 

And then you left me

Wounded, bleeding, calling for help

You ran away

Didn’t stay

Didn’t bother if I got proper care

The cost of treatment, a huge scare

 

Thank God home was near

Thank God money for medical bills was there

Thank God for private medical care

 

Okada Oh Okada

I need you sometimes

To beat the traffic

To hasten my journey

I need you sometimes, only sometimes

But why do you turn to bite the finger that feeds you!

 

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