*Made in Ramadan*



In harmattan it was, my maiden Ramadan

For a ten year old, I felt bold and tougher

But proving a point could 'a been rougher



The night fore was stale, long, and dreary

My sleep was spotty, short, and heavy

The moon came tiny but like a starving bow

All I wanted to ask was why he came so early

My fly-guy Ali was not really joking when

Mister Empty Sac O'Belly had him lurking

But by the kitchen he could 'a been choking



That morning came faster than normal

I felt the dawn come so dark and daunting

Half awake, half asleep, and I hate to partake

The food was cold but I had to feed my soul

I thought I was ready to deal with the heavy

Harmattan winds blowing the dry sunrays

To starve myself, I counted so many days

Twenty-nine or thirty – I'll only do half-ways

But I had a hunch it would 'a been fun



Fun it was until right about mid-day when

I held my head up to see the sun at bay

To confirm't was going to be the longest day

I looked down for my shadow and saw double

Then I knew much ahead for me was trouble

The little that was in my sac I felt but wobbled

Then I wished Sac O'Belly could 'a cut me a slack.



So there it was my maiden Ramadan

I beheld myKaftan in those dry winds of harmattan.





*Abdoulie A. Jallow*

*(BambaLaye)*

*September 28, 2007*

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