Creative Writing. / Poetry  / Terminal 1.

Terminal 1.

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Everyone is in a rush

School kids all over the place ‘Is it monday?’

Yelling touts and passengers scurrying off

make up the rest of the bustle.


Two, three steps into the hustle,

A whiff of Omena tickles my nostrils,

‘Mama mboga is late today’ I think to myself.


Suddenly interrupted by a strong smell of detergents

Lightly coated with a tinge of urine.

Cleaning going on at the Ekotoilet.


Further into the jungle of metal shacks on motor and wheels,

Amidst calls for ‘wanyee kabiria hamsini’.

Which suddenly changes to ‘mlolongo mlolongo gari ya haraka’,

and then another jumbled phrase I can not recall.


Ahead a sign board says ‘Railways museum’

I exit to the left.

It promptly goes quiet.

Shadrack Serem
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