Olaore Philip Durodola-Oloto

Previously published in Kalahari Review

In these streets,
Where the good, the bad, and the ugly hustle to survive,
Destinies are made,
But mostly marred.

Wild-eyed urchins mount HK,
Drawing puffs from rizla sticks,
Beckoning white collars to “show love,”
Pilfering from the unsuspecting,
And ready to flaunt bestial temerity
at the slightest provocation.

Petty traders hawk their wares,
Customers complain of prices,
Market women plead with stubborn buyers—
Owó ilè must be paid to ègbón àdúgbò before dusk.
From this street,
Iya Alájọ left for London;
Her journey sponsored by market women’s contributions.

On this street,
Bowla boys hunting for “ iron condemn,”
Are Chased by the CDA,
For the fear of their thievery.
On this street,
Young Chinedu became a Pablo,
Ìyábọ’s father was snatched by Sisi’s curves,
Baba Taju’s family house sold off after his death,
Iya Biliki ate her rival’s beancake, as promised.

On this street,
The muezzin drinks ogogoro from his ablution kettle,
After the Adhan.
“Pastor wa” does miracles —
Thanks to Ajóbíewé.

Here, old men gather at the vendor’s stand,
Debating politics with bitter tongues.
On this street,
Pretty Christy, whose mother’s bòlì always sold,
Lost her virtue
To depraved men.

Words on the street: “Street no love you!”
Yet still, we take to the streets,
For only here is the hustle real.

Olaore Philip Durodola-Oloto

Olaore Philip Durodola-Oloto (The Colossus Himself) writes from Lagos, Nigeria. He is a young, budding writer with a dazzling interest in poetry and fiction. He is currently a 3rd year undergraduate at the University of Lagos, Nigeria where he gathers experience in English and Literary studies.

He has work published/forthcoming in Brittle Paper, JCI Magazine, Outside the Box Poetry and elsewhere.

He tweets on X @olaore_philip.