The Language Of Niara Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

I went to the bank to deposit my money,
It was really a huge some of money to behold
And; is not met to be hang at home pricelessly.
But the receiving cashier said no more cashbook,
I stood, another come and go with a brown envelop
Given to the cashier in a black face of my standing.
I didnit understand their transaction but I look on
Yet, I stood like a lost puppy in confusion.
Another with a huge sum like mine came and
There was a cash book for him to deposit his money.
Later, he dropped a brown envelop again to the lady,
She smile marvelously at this good fortunes.
I asked again to be given receipt because taken the
Money back home would be against my grain.
She smiled and told me that I reallt know what to do,
But I really don't know what to do and how to do it.
I don't understand the language she was talking about.
In the culture of corruption, the language of transaction Is not supposed to be understandable easily.
She looked quizzically at me sensing my foolishness,
I stood like a goat at the banking hall, others come and go dropping many brown- brown Envelops and
They were humbly and respected attended to.
I waited and see another as foolish as I am,
He was not only foolish but sturborn too at the sight of the dubious situation.
It seems one need to be ready to pay money in order
To pay money into government treasury.
We stood, stood still until the massage of corruption sunk into our empty skulls then, we got an envelop and o as they have done; we dropped it on the table for her lunch.
She then smiled and opened her drawer
And pulled out a cash book for us, new ones.
This happens in the government house
This happens in the educational sectors
This happens in churches, elections,
The language of money takes toil on us
Breaking righteousness; the language of corruption
That is the language of our Naira.