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!
