Two paper bags

Strolling lazily on a deserted patch of road in the capital city.
I could hear their inconclusive whispers and chuckles about a stolen market day.

“No one showed”, they said.
“Not the women and their wares,
Not the ancestors they say curate the great exchanges,
Nor the gods they say own them.”

The two paper bags

Saw the drums that talk cycling the four extremities of the forlorn kingdom spewing thick smoke into a barren harmattan sky,
Foaming in their mouths, claiming that evil had been thrust upon the land.
“Remain calm”, they cautioned while their hounds pounded away at the mortars of phony tales and conspiracies,
Stirring the dead who missed their day of committal to rest,
And the living who wished to tie their nuptials or eke their daily pay.

The two paper bags

Floated along and stopped by the playground to watch lazy youths kicking around a worn out and partially inflated football on a scorched field.

Leaders of tomorrow? (img.africasa)

These couldn’t care less about the ravaging epidemic of eye-neck seizure disorders or the rantings of runaway motormouths who conjure whatever their minds conceive.

But at the people’s parliament by the newsstand, the clairvoyants debated the way forward, agreeing on nothing except to keep talking over each other in a ruthless jangle,

Until nightfall sneaked on them to take stock of their foolish endeavours.

Street parliamentarians. (img.abcnews)

The two paper bags

Worn out from their days toils, lifted themselves onto to an electric line that had no power to pass the night.
There they could see the behemoths holding scrolls of amity but belching fire at themselves,

The two paper bags,

Worn out from their days toils, lifted themselves onto an electric line that had no power to pass the night.
There they could see the behemoths holding scrolls of amity but belching fire at themselves.


As images of snipers filled the air like a swarm of termites after the first rain,
Bystanders got marooned in their carry-on bags while snatchers and rogue operators performed their final act of malfeasance on mother Earth.

Final acts of terror? (Img.timcarlielie)

Ahh, in a few days hence, our lives would go on as we know it or as we don’t.

But who stole the market day?

Don’t the two paper bags. Ask those squawkers pointing in all directions.