Marilyn and Sara,
48 fortnights later,
Ourselves we found again,
Meandering through the stalls of Oyingbo,
And if it was even possible,
Dudu was blacker than ever and even more beautiful
And Pupa, more fetching than ever before
Still, our songs we sang,
Of love, and hope, and dreams,
Of tears, and heart ache, and disappointments,
Of resignation,
Of determination
Even Oyingbo, dearest Oyingbo, had not changed much.
It still sang its songs around us,
Shombo still as red!
Tolotolo still as loud!
The calls?! As persistent as ever!
But we lament on,
Because not the picnics in Hyde Park,
Or the boat rides from the Embankment Pier
Have yielded the desired results
“It was so romantic!” Marilyn exclaims. “Dry white wine and long stem roses, with the sun setting behind us!”
“He had such beautiful eyes!” I gush. “They were so sincere and open.”
“Imagine, a proposal on the Thames!” Marilyn says wistfully.
“Imagine, the most beautiful of days, the most amazing man in the world!” I gush. “ Those life altering words, I love you… the tender way he held her hands, kissed her lips, it was like watching a replay of my life!” I wonder to myself how I could have missed seeing it in the beautiful eyes.
“And then the surprise party, waiting for us back at his apartment, his wife and kids!” Marilyn shakes her fist furiously!
Alas, when it seemed we shifted our allegiances to another Brotherhood,
We received the shocking blow,
That both brotherhoods were one and same,
That a proposal and a breakup were one and same,
And boatman and pretty eyes?!
Brothers in their own way!
Peas in their own pod!
Eye catching,
Smooth talking, just like our tolotolo!
So we sojourn through this land still,
Ploughing bravely on,
Warriors who will not accept defeat,
Defending the Brotherhood till the death,
Resting not,
Till the bouquets are thrown….
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