Boju boju o
O lo ro n bo
Se ki n si

He ran into a sea of limbs, shouting for his friends.
The megaphone stung the market women like a scorpion.
The politician’s face was everywhere; on matching t shirts, broken fences, bins- a sudden occurrence of a visual hallucination.
He appeared like a masquerade, twirling and gyrating like the beloved Eyo.
But he was neither a spirit nor demon, but a human with a bait of 1000 naira notes.
A stampede ensued, empty human bellies gushed out like a litany of broken promises. No Omoluabi lived here


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