The Middle class in Africa: 21st Century realities

A poem.

we met in strange cordial circumstances: I felt your presence and assumed you, pretending to feel you watched me.
You gazed at me with a sort of air-curiosity,

I regard this: remembering you once commented, 

"It is rare to find a humble dark-skinned. You are so at heart 

and dark-skinned."

You said that after everyone had mused about my roots: I had laughed- then you made your comment and caught everyone off-guard

probably between the lines of stupid comments and stupidity
but I regarded you with an air-curiosity

and realised I was growing very fond of you

You didn't sound very cultured like the rest of us: your strong looks gave you off-not as strong as Walter's though- he had the commanding presence

I had spoken to him earlier: lines of disinterest and uncertainty caught his throat so I assumed him

Sometimes I would visit you over your house- Walter never there- and laugh about silly things
we didn't talk about the Revolution, or politics or something strong over coffee while listening to Mandela speeches the way I would with Walter

We would often scamper to the back and make out till sunset- I just exploring maybe
We can call it your SOFT SOFT innocence
You would say strange things like I'll never let you go- I would smirk with my eyes closed / wondering whatever was I doing with a hot weathered boy like you

when Walter would come back and command the room with Ruby around his arms- they matched
Walter would look back at me with fine admiration
But we were too alike
Walter would ask you how the day went and we'd both burst out laughing
Then over cold turkey and terrible asparagus made by Ruby you'd linger around me, under the table, tickling-my soft toes- I would choke
and Walter, drunk would comment- The Revolution will not be televised.'

'Male privilege.' I told you sometimes.
you say- 'you're an intelligent woman- Walter is but a bimbo with a Ruby around his arm.' I would burst out laughing- enthralled.

So years later when
They ask me
Whatever did you see in him---
I would briefly comment, holding you tight in my hand- that you call me beautiful and that's what makes it worthwhile: that's why we ride together.

Poem explanation can be found here:

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