DSC* na dust for sky.
Wen rain fall, na portor portor for grand.
Pippo just dey mash am, dey pass;
Nobodi dey ask am say how fa?
Gofment don free we for yad;
We mata no dey torsh anybodi for mind.
If laik say na oyel we dey make; news for don full grand yakata.

For we area, lait na drim e dey.
Na ‘I beta pass my nebor’ we all take dey saley.
Hungry don kill we papa dem; we mama don dey hawk crayfish for maket.
Young bloods dey ves; dey bust bortol,
Dey shuk shuk anybodi wey do anyhow;
Babes dey carry belle laik digri; dey bon pikin laik say na porj.

We no go forget.
Wen dem say lait go com and cando com small.
We no go forget say we bwel con, eat, sleep.
Dem promis we wok; we don huzol laik slave taya
But wok no come. We don porshu drim taya, we no fit sleep.
We don beg taya; we trorza knee don shop, we tong don dry.

DSC na dutty for una eye.
Una don forget we for where una leave we.
Una don lie gif we so tey we don boro die on top lie.
Tumoro una go troway we enta street, scata we propati for guta.
Tumoro una go kill we comot tori; na only oyel una dey see.


*DSC: Delta Steel Company, a company formerly owned by the Nigerian Federal Government before being sold in a privatization drive that is still rife with questions till this date. Many of the staffs of this flagship company of the crude oil boom period have died without seeing the benefits of their labour; many are broken men and women, waiting for pensions that seem to be a mirage in the horizon.



DSC is dust in the sky.
When rain falls, he is mud on the ground.
People just step on him, as they walk past;
Nobody asks him; how far?
Government has left us alone in our area;
Our issues do not bother anybody.
If he was producing oil; there will be lots of news about him.

In our area, electricity only comes in the dream.
It is with small generators, we all use to live.
Hunger has killed our fathers; our mothers are hawking crayfish in the market.
Youths are angry; breaking bottles,
Stabbing anybody that misbehaves;
Young girls get pregnant like it is a degree; Giving birth like they are stooling.

We have not forgotten.
When they said electricity will come and candle became smaller.
We have not forgotten that we boiled corn and ate it as supper.
They promised us work; we have hustled like slaves until tired
But work has not come. We have pursued dreams until tired, we can find no sleep.
We have begged until tired; our trouser has torn open at the knee, our tongues have gone dry.

DSC is dirty in your eye.
You have forgotten us where you left us.
You have lied to us until we borrowed and died on top the lie.
Tomorrow you will throw us into the street, scatter our properties in the gutter.
Tomorrow you will kill us out of history; it is only oil you see.


Oka Benard Osahon is creative writer, poet and fantasy novel addict from Benin, Edo State, Nigeria. He attained his B.A in English and Literary Studies at Delta State University, Abraka. His poetry can be found on Brittle Paper, Kalahari Review, Praxis Magazine Online, Spillwords and Visual Verse. He was one of the winners of the Praxis Magazine Online 2016 Anthology Contest as well as the winner of the June 2017 Edition of the Brigitte Poirson Poetry Contest. He lives and works in Abuja where he writes at night after work. He can be reached at Twitter: @serveaze

Subscribe To Newsletter
Be the first to get latest updates and exclusive content straight to your email inbox.
Stay Updated
Give it a try, you can unsubscribe anytime.