My Streets

Thanks to Ruganzu Bruno from ECO ART Uganda

With the hooting of the evening rush-hour traffic, as the cars, matatus and trucks continuously rub their wearing black tyres over the dusty old tarmac. Somehow my eyes get stuck on this black, noisy old sport-car rolling by, making me wish that I had a car for myself, even though where I am in my current state, I'm not complaining.

Just across the road, next to a roadside vendor selling second-hand undergarments, "Ptssssssss..." goes the occasional sizzle as the freshly-beaten eggs slowly slide out of the rolex guy's plastic blue bowl, right onto the heating oiled frying pan as the rolex guy continuously fans the blazing charcoal stove with a piece of paper tightly held in his other hand. Immediately, the unmissable, mouthwatering aroma of frying eggs escapes passed my raring nostrils and spreads out into the homely evening breeze.

Then I find myself staring up at the hanging billboards, all displaying different messages for whoever cares to look up at them like I just did. A few of them manage to catch my gaze for longer moments than others: one is showing off a new type of food ingredient; another, a new (albeit old-fashioned, according to me) prophylactic measure; and then another, a type of engine oil that is said to have been trusted by drivers for centuries, making me lag a little more in thought about the word "centuries".

Suddenly a loud burst of laughter, followed by a thunderous rain of claps, grabs my attention all at once! Only to turn around to see an elated bunch of beautiful teenage girls making fun of a finely dressed mannequin. Secret admiration visibly clouds up their little faces with excited wishes of dressing up like it one of these days...

A few yards away, my eyes meet a perspiring builder. With a long, rubberless yellow pencil fixed  between the left ear and his afro-haired head, and with a building hammer held tightly in his masculine right hand, he continuously hits down the seemingly stubborn nail, as tiny sparks keep hurling out in every direction as the iron continues to clank...

Then, as I continue strolling through this trance-like moment, am awakened by yet another familiar lustful hiss from this street-side stranger who is supposedly attracted to my femininity. His attempts tend to invite a thousand other male hisses from each and every direction, and their stares begin to chase after me, followed by a mix of greedy and envious eyes from other onlookers rummaging about the nearing streets, all casting their rough erotic gazes all over my body;
I can't help but wish I could just run away and hide, and get to think things through as I quietly watch these homely streets of mine from somewhere indoors...

- Crystal April