Aniete Isong

Seat of Hunger

Her most prized possessions surround her:

A sordid plate. An umbrella. A kettle.

Her once attractive face has been

Scalded by the merciless African sun.

She pitches her seat by the National Museum.

Her forced smiles are at white tourists like you.

You!

Yes, you in those spotless designer shoes.

Why walk away from her woes?

You!

Yes, you in that noiseless, customized automobile.

Why drive away from her needs?

You!

Yes, you wearing that priceless gold chain.

Why leave her chained to this seat of hunger?

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