Trotro Stories #9 Accra with a Monday Blue Sky

Monday blues, sky and clouds 
Traffic jam and fine clothes ironed 

Monday hectic bustle, hustle in Accra 
Phones that ring, like music symphony 

Cacophony of  yelling sounds 
Money clocks ticking fast 

Reviews and implementation 
Subject starts with a cup of tea (Hausa koko if you like)

Awaken the tussle for the public transport trotro 
Air condition cars, segregated along the stretch 

If looks can kill, all in their private cars 
They will long be dead, uppity sectors of characters 

I was once like that with my private car  
Now I push and shove for the joy of trotro 

Like a born again, more fanatic in the looks 
I give to the private car drivers/ owners 

Hawkers hug the kill zones in between fast lanes 
Lord send angels to protect their vulnerability 

Monday is here again, blues 
Sky and clouds and traffic jam 

The wage rate

Boss man, boss man, an arm and a leg? 
This will cost an arm and a leg ?
I will have to pay an arm and a leg ?


An arm and a leg, everything cost an arm and a leg  
I would  have to search every nooks and cranny 
For fruits and veggies, does cost an arm and a leg 


Oh and every crumbs would count for sure 
Every crumbs that falls off the table, I say 
Every cheese of it would stick, for sure 


Life will cost an arm and a leg
I would have to save every penny, an arm and a leg 
That falls in the pot, and piggy bank, an arm and a leg 

Stitch in time to save nine, an arm and a leg
To save myself an arm at least 
A leg at most, an arm and a leg 


For this would cost an arm and a leg 
An arm and a leg, and a strand of hair  
Did you say an arm and a leg?


Life would cost an arm and a leg 
Tell the boss to pay some more on wages
Boss man, boss man, on wages and more 

For life does cost an arm and a leg 
An arm and a leg, an arm and a leg  
Oh this would cost an arm and a leg 

The temp job

To stand, in the shoes of another man 
Wearing another man's cloths, walking into his shadow 
Like stepping into the cave, of another man's hide 


I sense an energy, that surrounds, a presence of sort 
Sometimes cold, sometimes warm 
All depending on, the character that once stood 


Perfectly moulded, made immobile to fit an absent vessel 
Like a ship yard still with scaffolding hold 
From ships, that had long been launched 


And this is me in proximity, stepping into another man's environ 
Do I adopt a character, like him from old, that was before 
Like a possessed haunt, to fit into roles, expected to play 


As on bids to be accepted 
Fool the locals, so not to think, to fright, not to worry  
Fear, retribution, for there has been a change of old 


Wearing name badges, how long before comparison of
And expectation to conform would last on demand  
Before legitimacy would be approved 


I would have been long gone 
Before it becomes known by the locals 
That someone else, walked in these here shoes