Its dark, there’s no electricity

The men sit around a table

Laden with palm wine and beer

Shirts off, voices loud

The women sit behind the kitchen

Raffia fans in hand, chatting away

The children are in bed

With no clothes on

Under mosquito treated nets

Their eyes accustomed to the darkness

She is a high powered executive

Yet she is a loving dutiful wife

He is a high powered executive

But he cheats on his loving dutiful wife

She raises hell, it is dark and hell is hot

She leaves, he begs, she returns

But he falls again

She raises hell, but it is not so hot

By the third and fourth time

She just complains

Her eyes accustomed

It’s dark but its how she sees

It’s Lagos, Nigeria

She looks left and right

Then jumps into her car

He winds up his un-air conditioned car

In spite of the stifling heat

Puts his mobile phone under his seat

His laptop in the boot

And locks all the doors


This is their normal

Fear, anxiety, more fear

Their eyes accustomed

He is only 12

But he goes with his big brother

On his nightly ritual

To pick daddy up from the gutter

Where he lays drunk

They get him home

Put him to sleep

While mama weeps and curses

He used to weep too

But he looks on

His eyes accustomed


All different, all alike

All staring at life

Through our different lenses

All under our own clouds

As our eyes grow accustomed to the darkness

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