STRANDED AT THE POLLING STATION


(FOR CHIEF BISONG ETAHOBEN)

Chief, I heard you about the short verses
So, I’m doing something about it
But honestly, my sight is blurred by the CDC road carnage
Consequently, this my eager pen is trembling
What about that your inquisitive pen?

We came to vote
We were all there
We came, zealous, enthusiastic and bold
We were pepped up, fired up
And like steamed vehicles raring to go.

We all turned up, set to invalidate the previous reverses
Campaign rhetoric was banned, but political candles were lit
Not a single car was left in the garage
Everyone was panting and sweating
One man called his opponent an over fed hen.

Some of us wondered why in politics one should ever loathe
Here our ballot boxes were bare
All the elderly like babies were stood out in the cold
Church elders prayed there should be no flare up
And polling officers simply went to and fro.

In one corner floated party flags
Opposite, the national flag dominated by its sheer size
A cock crow and a few drops fell on the corrugated iron sheets
Soon, we knew, all the party flags would shrivel and droop
Like those hated wilted plants of old
And only the national flag would still be floating in the air.
For us, it was only a question of time
In life, parties come and go, but the nation remains.

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