After the award show, there was a small gathering just outside the venue. People were break dancing, yard stomping, runway strutting, b-boy stancing… not an unusual sight with these types of concerts.

I walked up to the crowd, no date by my side, as usual, to observe the spectacle up close. I was amazed by the number of moves these people displayed. There’s a lot of talent in this country, I thought, as an underage girl twerked aggressively beside me.

Then, the beat changed. “Time for Rap Battle” the guy on the stereo announced. His word was law in these parts. The tune to Eminem’s ‘bad guy’ started to play. Unconsciously, I began bobbing my head—it was an inspired selection.

So there I was, enjoying the moment, when something unexpected happened. A young man calls me out. He was a short, M.I looking fellow, with Versace printed across his vest. I don’t know why, but this man had decided that I would bear the brunt of his punchlines this evening.

“Hey you!” he started.

“Me?” I questioned

“Yes, you looking like a bitch”
“Why are you moving your head like bongafish…”

It was awful. All I could do was stare blankly as he attacked me with lyrics on lyrics on lyrics. I think he said something about me ‘being so stupid my card reader can’t read’ … whatever that means.

But soon it was over, and everyone was jeering and egging me on for a reply.

So I took a deep breath, searched inside myself, and said some things.
In this order I said—
I said—

Funny how information

flows on a TV station—

Next thing you know,

there’s an interest in your situation

For fifteen minutes

you’re the source of an admiration,

The blue skies

are freed of precipitation—

you’re drying your eyes;

Then you realize

in astonishment

you can rise above

all of the punishment

that’s been plaguing your life:

Once your origins

originated from a bottle of

original inside,

A family member dies

your emotions collide

and all of your feelings are lies,

All the consolation

never bring you consolation

The rest of your generation

just a confirmation that

life isn’t fair,

call-it pride or call-it fear,

Your attention

is my inception

Why am I propagating

nobody cares?

Now at this point, I felt the noises dying down, so I figured I’d take it up a notch—

It’s unacceptable,

a single asterisk

can make you

base your entire existence

on merit

Institutions keep on

hunting for your credit,

questioning your every


Inflating your embarrassment

Somehow the environment’s


anyone against it

is a terrorist

Somehow the party that profits

is the most generous

If you don’t like it

then go suck an asparagus,

Is it really wrong to question your base?

What country you from?

Am I just a victim of space?

What colour your skin?

Am I just a victim of race?

Are my allegiances misplaced?

All of this brain addling

only serves to make me a weapon

now I’m awake

to what I’m deserved

should I question

if I’m deserving—

“Booo!” the crowd proclaimed

“This your nonsense rap is too long!”

“Don’t spoil the show abeg”

In the wake of these terrible reviews I hid my face and sunk into the darkness, reflecting on my haplessness, unaware that I was being observed from the shadows;

a little kid with binoculars, unknown to me, had followed me all the way home.





Oh what are balls,
but magnets at your feet?

That your moves are never seen
‘less they be on repeat?

Oh I weep, weep
for the defence,

For even if a thousand men
made promises to keep,

the goalposts would yet expand
by an inch;

Fifa ’15 put your worth at over 100000000 dollars
That’s the budget of 3 of our countries,
But if a club

should wish to be so broke,
their revenues you would replenish,
with a shot and a skirmish,
On porn sites your dribbles

are a fetish,

but I wouldn’t know anything about that…

messi 10
Oh what is the number 10 on your jersey,
but the number of players
on your squad unnecessary,

No ‘I’ in team
but two in Lionel,

And even though your growth be stunted,
the menus of your chef
are steadily hunted,

To say better players exist
is a lie,
Even Ronaldo himself
would shrink in size;
(By Ronaldo I meant C. Ronaldo)

(No offence to CR7)


Thy moves are swifter,



than a Taylor Swift

admitting themselves
to asylums;

coach 1

coach 2

coach 3

That you never won the world cup
is a crime,
Sepp Blatter resigned,

Player of the tournament:
“To its biggest star
We apologise
and banish the games
to Russia,

and Qatar”

Cooling breaks
but you needed no water,
Brazilian sun,
Your tan did not suffer;


Black or White:
You transcend race.
Four defenders at a time:
You transcend space.

Goal line technology:
strongly heeded,
In your case
never needed,

Captain’s decision,
Xavi asking

Your permission;

Never sweating,
Never running,
Skipping, Jogging,
Twisting, Turning
Have to stop, my pen

is burning
(really burning)

God help Juve

May Buffon
never be
a Buffoon!
May Pogba
never suffer!
May Pirlo


never shave!