With one mammoth step forward, he
sidestepped the holes that decorated the uneven path,
and swiftly,
he reached the ageing and rickety bus,
filled with sardine passengers with a mix of
confusion and eagerness in their eyes.
With a heavy tug,
his kitchen-sized luggage lagged
behind him,
stuck in the confines of
here and there.
Another quick heaving tug, and the worn, rusty doors
freed it,
allowing it to escape with its owner.
Eyes darted to him suddenly,
pupil-wide glances moved up and down,
then
just as quickly,
just as suddenly,
eyes whipped away,
not wanting to engage with
this stranger.
We knew of course.
We all knew.
From the way his
hawaiian shirt dripped in sweat,
and clung to the hairs of his chest,
under the punishing sun.
From the way his
dark green khaki shorts
kissed his knobbly knees.
From the way his
tousled curly, dark brown hair
splattered across his forehead, while a
handful of high-spirited ringlets danced above his eyebrows.
And most of all,
from the way his milky smooth skin glistered,
begging to be kissed by the
roaring sun.
We knew.
We all knew.
Everything about him was wrong.
No.
Different.
Strange.
We definitely knew who he was.
Onye njem nleta.
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