By Loureen Alma
Here is a truth we taste every night
A truth of railways ward
Like dust that refuses to leave our tongues
For when the floodlights go off,
Insecurity switches on.
We speak as one voice today,
Coz fear has been making rounds in our homes
Sitting at our doorsteps like an uninvited guest,
Waiting for darkness to stretch its arms across our streets
Thirty seven promises hanging dead in the sky
Thirty seven floodlights
Thirty seven eyes that should be watching over us.
But we see darkness here not just the absence of light , No
But darkness , a thief with many names.
Stealing peace from our mothers
Confidence from our youths
And livelihoods from our small businesses
Forced to shut early
As if surrendering to a curfew
Imposed by shadows.
Every night when the sun clocks out
And obunga switches off its duty,
We are left counting footfalls
Listening to whispers
Holding our breath like a fragile prayer.
Because the floodlights are off and fear
Has become the only thing that comes on.
I speak not as a victim
But as a community learning to roar.
I am done being silhouettes in my own neighbourhood
Am done hiding behind fear
That was never meant to be ours to carry.
For the city Department may drown in silence
But I won’t.
Their neglect may be loud,
But our unity is louder.
With our voices weaving into one rhythm.
One demand and one heartbeat.
Fix the lights
Fix the 37 stalled,
silent,
sleeping floodlights.
Fix what your responsibility refuses to face.
Because security is not charity
Lighting is not luxury
Safety is not optional.
And railways ward will not live in fear
We will not whisper our demands
We will speak them in daylight
Shout them in the dark
Until the city listens.
Changing The Mindset
