Shackles of The Street Hawker

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At the heart of one of Africa’s most respected cities,
Dwells kings and queens. of survival, the street hucksters,
Determined humans, more persistent than spongers on a rhinocerous skin,
Still strangers to each other but loyal when a member of the city council emerges,

Before galloping of the Roman goddess of dawn, Her Highness Aurora,
My skimpy legs were busy slapping the muddy roadway,
Headed towards one of the greatest black markets in Africa,
In a desperate call to sweep the less-used shoes from Europe,

The sun is yet to arise, but business is resuming as usual,
On the banks of the befouled river passing by, a pentagon of dingy boys hang on,
A situation that would smash my egomania into pieces, though i never showed it,
It’s yet nother day at work, striving through the muddy market day,

The chapmen are fully commited to their daily hustle,
Some grabbing my hand from the back trying to persuade my undeterred self,
But I eventually manage to unhook my hand, now on to the next hurdle on board,
Bargaining, the most strenuous exercise ever, but i still managed to cut their prices!

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