THE NAKED PARADE
I am tired, having worked my farm all day.
Slowly but surely I stagger home for the necessary rest.
I arrive at Eresha, the stream midway home
the place where we wash off our farm dirt,
before the last lap of homeward journey
It is quiet, empty.
It is quiet but for the gblum-gblum-gblum of Eresha
in its ever-continuous, indecipherable soliloquy
Something foreboding and eerie is in the air
I know not what it is.
For clean bath and pleasurable swim
I undress, stark naked
a straight plunge into the watery depths of Eresha
she engulfs me with her warm, wet arms
saying, welcome, let me restore you.
I enjoy the bath
swimming in rhythm with non-stop conversation from my Eresha
refreshing
regenerating
reassuring
all tiredness gone
I am happy
I amble to the river bank to dress up
to complete the homeward journey but
hey, my clothes, I cannot find my clothes
where are they, my clothes?
Suddenly I notice some black, dirty, caked, smelly rags where my clothes were
I lift my head high
I discover, far, far away on the horizon,
I see him dashing away - in my clothes.
Band of dreadlocks heaving high and falling on his shoulders as he gallops away
the rags on the wet, brown, co-operative ground
tell me my clothes now adorn Aladra the mad -
Aladra who sits and sleeps in the market square
Aladra the village madman
who hails himself ‘Government Boy!’
Aladra now adorns my clothes
and saddles me with the equation of walking through the village square
with or without his own clothes.
