The “lala” (kite?) that soars into the high heavens will surely come down to base, by fire by force. If it doesn’t want to, the force of gravity will compel it to surrender to earth’s magnetic pull…
Johnnie Walker is at it again. Are you back in town or not? Tell us. Stop all this junketing, rambling, staccato delivery of the obvious.
Well, you got me there. Truly I’m back to where I was before dashing to Uncle Sam’s to watch and participate in an election, I had thought would put the final nail on the political coffin of a con artist in government. But the Smart Alec outsmarted every political pundit who had predicted he would be defeated.
Is that why your “lala” has crash landed so soon?
Not exactly so. The Johnnie Walker in me was already feeling like fish out of water, panting on the beach and hoping to be thrown back into its natural habitat. And here I am again pounding the sweat hub districts of Lagos in a determined effort to sweat out the built-up toxin in the system. Not much has changed except the rise in building construction activities. Sharp sand, soft sand, cement blocks litter the routes of early morning exercise. In the mind’s eye I begin to wonder if really this is a poor country. Housing projects abound everywhere. Since arrival I have “waka come go” Ikoyi, Victoria Island and Lekki it is the same story. Houses, houses and houses everywhere but no passable roads, not even for walkabouts like me. The drains remain dirty and damp, full of mosquitoes stealing a bite even in broad daylight. Seems they too are so famished they can’t wait for the formality of time schedule. Every living thing is feeling the pangs of hunger. My legs too feel like rebelling and refusing to take me back home. I have to resort to frequent time-outs to regain stamina before plodding my rickety way back home.