If wisdom had a smell It would smell of old books Passed down from generation to generation Revealing the truths about the enigma called time. The truths which cannot be purchased Even by the highest bidder. That smell that unveils the arduous work of writers Known and unknown. That smell that reveals family trees of readers Seen and unseen. That smell that conquers ignorance Once knowledge is sought. If wisdom had a smell It would smell like an old, well-read copy of Uncle Tom's Cabin Revealing the evil behind the thoughts and actions of slavery. That smell that encompasses sacrifice. That smell that brings words and characters to life. That smell that raises positive movements that will In time, save humankind. If wisdom had a smell It would smell of old wrappers Worn by mothers and even fathers, Instinctively used to wipe the tears Of their children away, Used with love to cover them from the rain or sun. Oh, the smell of that long piece of fabric With drawings of horses, stars,...
Bridges fly over this town like birds. You see workers – white collar, blue, brown, purple – walking like the earth would collapse under their feet whatever time it was of the day. Obalende wakes up to the honks from private and public vehicles with passengers who are in a haste to meet up with work schedules. The yellow public buses make passers-by sneeze from black fumes, cursing the air at the slamming of their brakes. Although they are scrappy in nature, they serve us who can only afford a single meal per day. Don't throw a stone here; it just might meet one of your own. Obalende welcomes you with the smell of food varieties from different local shops to the jamming of fuji music, to the preachers of eternal life, to the blaring of advertisements through loudspeakers well positioned on the ground. Those vendors, they sell drugs for multi-purpose functions. You will hear them marketing: “Have you tried Egba Ijebu ? This drug can cure your stomach aches, your headaches, yo...