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The African Diary: Poetry by Pius Didier



5 o’clock in Nairobi
Traffic jam is the morning hymn
The early birds are up for their batch
And the city terminus is dense of sunset crowds
Some undecided ‘What next’
Though found their way in the Nation quarters
The air seems contented with the hooting dialect
And the tyranny of numbers in the busy street

8 O’clock in Lagos
Tick! Tick! Tick! The city clock ticks
As old chaps ramble on their classical garments
Solicitous applicants queue outside a ‘CLOSED TODAY’ door
Wasn’t it an advert in ‘The Truth’?
The political structure busy on mediation talks
Based on stabilizing the ineffectual insurgents
The engine beside the power agents

10 o’clock in Johannesburg
Street floods of people in demonstration
A peace campaign on environmental conservation
The illegitimacy beyond industrialization
Their faces are coveted by a memorial sombre cloud
In ease not to subvert ‘The departed’s dream’
Solidarity is the song of oneness
And the bond that belabours betweeness

12 o’clock in Harare
The opposition meets in their chambers
To summon the elevated sycophancy
These things that the world is deaf and dumb about
How the court adjourns their petition
Of the filed procedural impeachment
But their bellow is an untimely tussle
The tyranny of financial muscle

1 o’clock in Mogadishu
Clear atmosphere is triggered by hyperactive call of reason
As the troops gather alert around the synagogues
And jovial saints allude along the ruins
Their hearts and souls set for prayers
(“Behond shall they be set free” says Alla’)
For blessed is the city that worships
His blistering love shall capsize their enemies’ warships

4 o’clock in Cairo
The Nile waters flow slowly with zeal
With it carries the joy of the loaded land
And reflects the peculiar image of peasantry
The great pyramids stand still with great succession
Each new day they yearn to tell the untold tale
Of how unmeasurable it pays to praise peace
And cease from the cock-up attributes that pierce

9 o’clock in Africa
The land is as dark as Sagittarius
Every activity is in its humble dénouement
(As it was, is and garbled shall be)
I illuminate my hut and gawp at my articles
And conscientiously fold the African Diary
My eyes dim and decisively curl in peace
Another busy day in the office.

Image: Geralt via Pixabay.com


  1. It’s an honour not only to me but the whole black continent. Writing comes as a passion and dedication to the work of fiction. Today an ordinary writer can have their works published. Long live African writer.

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