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slum in gidi
Our habitation is a trash field.

We consume all the waste of our city,

in our vicinity, tyres outnumber people

Yet we have no motorbikes.

We build our tent with rusted zinc

and reinforce the top with blown tyres.

Snake n scorpion our unfriendly neighbors,

though we’ve learn to live with them.

The floor inside our tent, is our priceless foam,

while we employed round shaped stone as pillow.

water is far from us,

so we learnt to cope with our urine.

We wine n dine in the same plate with dogs n pigs,

the prodigal son of old could not

endure our tent for a night.

We are independent prisoners

entangled with piercing chain of poverty.

Meted upon us by our own mother’s children,

their abode is the high places of the earth.

While we occupied this crooked dungeon.


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