The Life of a Digger BY: Margarita Engle

Henry from the island of Jamaica

Jamaican digging crews have to sleep
eighty men to a room, in huge warehouses
like the ones where big wooden crates
of dynamite are stored.

My hands feel like scorpion claws,
clamped on to a hard hard shovel all day,
then curled into fists at night.

At dawn, the steaming labor trains
deliver us by the thousands, down into
that snake pit where we dig
until my muscles feel
as weak as water
and my backbone
is like shattered glass.

But only half the day
is over.

At lunchtime, we see sunburned
American engineers and foremen
eating at tables, in shady tents
with the flaps left open,
so that we have to watch
how they sit on nice chairs,
looking restful.

We also watch the medium-dark
Spanish men, relaxing as they sit
on their train tracks, grinning
as if they know secrets.

We have no place to sit. Not even
a stool. So we stand, plates in hand,
uncomfortable
and undignified.

Back home, I used to dream of saving
enough Panama money
to buy a bit of good farmland
for Momma and my little brothers
and sisters, so that we would all
have plenty to eat.

Now all I want is a chair.
And food with some spice.
And fair treatment.
Justice.

Artwork by: Wilhelm Sasnal

Comments

Painful letters By: Marvee

Every time I feel this way This terrifying kind of pain These twitchy palms and muffled sobs These weakened sights and mindless slob I would think of something To put me at ease, anything At times, to leave my world And be someone else, not a dud Often times I would write on plain sheet Write till my limbs felt weak Write till the page is covered in ink Write till the painful times shift. ©-Marvee

The So Called Queen By:Salawu Olubunmi

_The so called queen of the zanger A woman of misery and deceptive appearance Wags tongue in a swordlike How angelic she be when seeking the honey frm it's comb With her romantic but deceitful display The first sight of her left me in dismay First encounter with her was heartrending Such a sweet poison A devil in disguise wit an angelic face The so called queen can neither be embraced nor avoided.

THE GCE GIRL By: OLUSEGUN AKINSANYA

Every year we welcome into our community several teenagers between 13 and 17 from far and near. They are both male and female. They have the same mission. They have come to write General Certificate Examination (G.C.E). Most of them are penultimate students in secondary schools. These little fellows have been fixed at centres nearby to write their exams and the people that brought them have accommodation as part of the payment agreement. Some of these children are leaving home for the first time. Some of them look like mom's pets. Immediately they hit the town, you see a lot of ambiance and noise, something like a carnival. They make noise in the morning while looking for water for domestic use and in the evening when they are back from their different centres. It's always a new experience for most of them, and they seem to enjoy it: yea, they seem to enjoy being away from home for a whole month, a kind of escape from the eagle eyes of their parents; they seem to enjoy a t...

OLUWAJIMI . J . THORPE

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