The sky is azure with promises of bigger pay checks and more suggestive spouses. The buses come in a little after eight, ridding their bowels of weary travellers as loved ones, strangers and the ever cautious pick pockets rush to meet them. There is small talk, there are laughs and sobs of reconciliation, tales told to little ears, the silent murmurs of men on business, the excited chatter amongst new comers and of course the unrepentant yells of conductors.
The air is sanguine with the smell of fried fish and the songs of the bread sellers. There is the increasing noise of screeching tires and blaring horns as indignant engines refuse to be mollified, they come to and fro..only to be reunited in commuter traffic. The afternoon sun is resilient keeping its heat above bearable degrees, the homeless guard their corners while expertly purchasing food with money they do not have. The area boys also guard their turfs..there will be no unwanted visitors.
The hawkers go about their hawking, scouting potential customers with eagle eyes while the police monitor the goings-on with pockets itching for trouble makers. A Toyota Camry runs a red light at breakneck speed, this of course is frowned upon but will be overlooked if the right words are spoken to the right people. Business as usual. Traders display their wares with enthusiastic grins to worried secretaries, school boys who couldn't care less, and old men too busy musing on halycon days. The okada riders will not be left out of the bustle,dangerously manoeuvring their way past vehicles and pedestrians,the bank across the street gleams in the sunlight with the debonair that can only be worn by a building. An obvious ariviste in traditional garb greedily counts money on the hood of his Mercedes Benz,making absolutely no attempt at secrecy.
Children walk with parents to the supermarket, thinking of the best ways to implement their pester power. Evening falls and the streets are more busy than they were in the morning. Prostitutes unleash themselves on the general public, cat walking (or what looks like it) and smiling just long enough for three of them to be whisked into a Prado. I stand up from my vantage point,my back hurts like hell. It'll be a long drive home and if anything the traffic will not ease, I still see the hawkers in their abundance and some beggars in wheelchairs who were construction workers six hours ago.
I smile and roll up my window, the fumes beginning to choke me. Men and women walk home to their families..despite the increasing reasons to worry, there is a strong feeling of hope, one that is unmistakable. I look as the lights of a dozen skyscrapers glow in the darkness..its beautiful really, I think to myself. I can hear the loud music of night clubs and the cheers of the clubbers..I close my eyes as the music lures me into sleep's feathery grip. This city on the other hand will not give in as easily.
- JSL
Joshua is the Shakespeare of our time. No wash intended.
-- More from Joshua? Unrequited - Clearly Vague
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Painted a very vivid and graphic picture. A piece well done.