Don’t mock the humble life

Do not laugh at me because I live in the countryside,

Far, far away from civilization, your civilization

Or because I live in a mud walled hut, roofed with thatch

So that when it rains, I could fetch the water from the leaking roof

Do not laugh at my inability to speak or see things like you do

Don’t be amazed that I wear a barefoot as my special sandals

And I may use rough and crude means to provide my food

These are the extent I can survive, so please don’t mock me

Do not laugh at me when you see my breakfast without meat

Or my garden without great beasts, huge birds and red roses

I grow my seeds in the toughest of lands, where I must bend to till

And the weeds and grasses are sometimes stronger than my palms

Maybe, my pants are patched and you can see through my soul

That the waters I dream to drink are unfit for your consumption

So I am wild, I am crude, dirty and to you poor

Well, let me prove to you why I am not what you think…


Do you know though I miss out in your city merriment

That I savor the smell of fresh air and freedom?

That I can hear the wild teach and talk to me about life?

I have streams to cool my feet when the sun is at her worst

They wash my stress away and will let the small fishes play in-between my toes

I sit on the shed of mango, cashew trees when the heat is unbearable

Do you know that they fan me with their leaves as the birds sing a lullaby,

And in times of their fruitfulness they throw me a snack, costless and fresh?

I see the sun rise, not as a call to business but as a spectacle to behold

So when I touch the flowers that grow wild on the dusty road

And smell their wonderful fragrance, I feel much much alive

So please don’t laugh at me if you will not trade places with me

By Oke Iroegbu

Finance Graduate, Bibliophile and Bard of Ovim, his hometown. Read more at

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