Ìbàdàn, I love you
I know you know.
I love the slopes and rocky side of Àpáta
I love the tankers and slow traffic at rush hour.
I love Dùgbè and Ògùnpa.
I love the careful caress.
I love the coverings and river they host.
The buildings and the bus(y)inesses in them.
I love Mókólá
I love its bridge and its limitation
I love the aged shelters on steep slopes
I love the battle between the smell of printed works,
Heavy exhausts from generators
And pleasantries from drainages.
I love Ìwó road
How LORRIES run on micras
How its bridge is still a shelter and a market
How beggars swarm travellers and passers by
How billboards draw attention of all
I love it as exit and as entrance.
I love Beere, Òjé and the king’s market
I love the businesses and the smiling brown roofs
The epitome of wars and warriors at junctions
I love height of Láyípo and the sights from it.
I love the automobiles races on tarred road to Òjóò
I love the road network with few potholes
I love the voice of buses, the cries of the conductors
And command from drivers – bosses of buses.
I love the sacred stench from the busy baskets of Sásá faithful
Sásá, the cathedral where pepper prays.
I know only worthless souls dislike pepper!
I love the small community of Báríkà
I love its name and its people
I love the dichotomy between its entrance and its inside.
I love the faithfulness of its inhabitants.
I love the ivory tower
I love knowledge and its symbol
I love its culture, its serenity and the blessed skulls
I love the soothing spring for all that thirst
I love the scent from gowns
I love the clumsiness of Agbowó
The narrow paths for foot and fehicles
The tall brown buildings and the little litters around
I love the mix of shops, shelters and sanctuaries.
I love the sounds from Bódìjà
The bargaining melodies from buyers and sellers
I love all the foods that smile, uncontrollably
I love monies entering and leaving its banks
I love the revered àmàlà joint.
I love the soil of Ìbàdàn
And the crops it produces.
I love the prowess of children of Ògúnmólá.
I love the agility of sons of Ògúnmólá.
And their infectious confidence.
I love the beautiful daughters of Ògúnmólá.
And their oratory.
I love their accent: the sikin for chicken
And the kusin sia for cushion chair.
I love their swiftness in response.
I love Ìbàdàn,
I love its hills.
And maybe, comfortable with its ills,