How my beautiful aunt turned into an idol of poverty

By Awuol Gabriel Arok, Juba, South Sudan

Aunty will I ever forget the big pot of cool water,

That we used to quench the chronic thirst;

After our maderesa break time,

Never will I forget how proudly I and my classmates familiarized ourselves;

With dish of yummy kisra and kudura at your home

*

Did we long for compass direction?

To guide us to your humble home, No, but regrettably

Today I can only point my shivering finger of distress

Just at the former spot of your picturesque compound;

Ruined down by what they called RPG Dala.

*

Ooh Aunty

I remembered that morning when your house was hit

And sadly Professor the father of your children

Was squeezed down as rumbles of the building felled on him; pathetic

For the sake of blood tie,

I am the only one who can still recognize

Your once beautiful rounded face

The resemblance of my late mother,

*

Dear aunty was it once in my dream

That you will be homeless,

Your stunning and street children accommodating home

Is nowhere, and here today I saw it as car washing ground;

Ooh this legged world of isolation

Has vomited vipers of bitterness on my humble

And caring aunt.

*

Who else if not her skeleton children

And me her hope hunting niece

Can sweep her salty tears,

This world of today amity and tomorrow scandal

Is so unkind;

I am shedding tears my aunty,

Bitter tears of sympathy and empathy;

*

Dear aunty, I have not yet succeed with the dream

That I once promised you to achieve,

After parental inquiry of who we are going to be in the future,

Didn’t I bravely tell you that I am going to be a Lawyer?

Two months ago, my lovely aunty, I was chased out of my classroom,

Because of term fees though my registration fees was cleared

By my mother’s former classmate

Who is a teacher in Dove Primary School,

*

Your ever caring hands Are terribly been missed

And as per now I am a pushy night guard

Along the Independent streets;

And that is why you sometimes see me

With Agege bread that I beg from the nearby bakery

When I visit your cartons roofed shelter at your in-laws’ residence

*

My dear aunty;

I sometimes sleep under the big Mahogany tree

Which is opposite to the town council central quarters;

And at a time I pay nervous visit

To homes of my former classmates, friends

And at a time put up with my fellow loaders,

*

Dear aunty

This stressful world seems to be holding

Some promises for us according to my numerous nightmares

I had during my odds days along the loneness streets.

My prayer of hope is usually my night’s blanket of comfort,

As I dream of your comfortability and my educational continuity,

Love you my dear Aunty.

*

Awuol Gabriel Arok, a Writer and a Poet, has a Bachelor Degree in Social and Developmental Studies from the University of Juba, South Sudan, he is the author of the unpublished book ‘‘The Wisdom Horn’’ and an Initiator of ‘‘Your Tribe is My Tribe’’ and ‘‘Giving Heart Foundation’’ initiatives. He can be reached via his email Address: jjmkamzeearokson@yahoo.com

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