The Morning Awakens
UDEME ABBA@udemeabba089100
1 month ago
As I troll in the street of Alapere along ketu. The early rays of sunlight stretched lazily over the quiet street, painting the world in shades of gold and amber. It was the kind of morning that hinted at possibilities—a gentle reminder that each day came with its own story, waiting to be written.
The hum of the tricycles, known affectionately as "kekes," punctuated the stillness. Their drivers, clad in weathered jackets and caps to fend off the morning chill, exchanged nods of acknowledgment as they passed one another. Each tricycle carried a hint of purpose—a passenger headed to work, a vendor transporting wares, or an empty seat waiting to serve its first fare of the day.
The modest buildings that lined the street stood as silent witnesses to the unfolding drama of daily life. Their walls bore the scars of time—faded paint, cracked windows, and patched roofs—but within them pulsed the heartbeat of the community. Behind shuttered windows, shopkeepers readied their displays of provisions, fruits, and trinkets. Somewhere in one of the apartments above, the clatter of pots and pans signaled breakfast preparations, the aroma of freshly brewed tea drifting out to greet the street below.
A faint breeze rustled through the air, carrying with it the mingling scents of fried dough, damp earth, and the sharp tang of fuel from passing vehicles. It brushed against the faces of early risers—workers, students, and traders—who moved with a quiet determination, their footsteps a steady rhythm on the pavement.
The street itself seemed to breathe. The white and black barriers lining the road reflected the sunlight, standing as silent sentinels of order amidst the unfolding chaos. The occasional honk of a horn broke the peace, but the morning seemed to absorb the sound, softening it like a mother soothing her restless child.
Children, still rubbing sleep from their eyes, peeked out of doorways, their laughter tentative but bright as they prepared for school. A street vendor, his cart loaded with steaming buns and bottles of chilled water, called out to a small group of workers waiting for a ride. His voice, rich and melodic, added another layer to the street’s symphony.
Above it all, the sun climbed higher, its light warming the cold metal of rooftops and chasing away the remnants of shadows. It touched everything—the battered tricycles, the weathered buildings, the hopeful faces of the people—and transformed the ordinary into something quietly extraordinary.
This street, unassuming as it was, carried the spirit of the city within its veins. It was here that dreams took their first steps, that struggles found quiet victories, and that life unfolded in its raw and beautiful simplicity. As the sun rose higher, the promise of the day grew stronger, and the street, now fully awake, prepared to carry on its timeless rhythms.
#Longforgottenstreets #Explorelocal
#neighbors
