Taiye is just five years old
Yet her life, you’ve almost sold
At the clock of six a.m.
You toss her to the hawking den
To scream at the top of her voice
‘Buy your akara, sweet bean cake’.
While her mates still dream in bed
She must sell all, else she is dead
You forget that she’s a child
Innocent and at the summer of her life
Designed for springing joy at birth
Only to become an adult before a teen
Little Kehinde cannot hide her shame
When she sees her excited classmates
Bright and beautiful in their uniforms
While she is out to sell ògì and ekó
If only the ground could swallow her
Or bargain her fate with her murder.