Rémy Ngamije
The Things They Said
0.
Just a cough they said.
Contained they said.
No fear they said.
Wuhan they said.
Where is that they said.
China they said.
Of course they said.
1.
How many dead they said.
Only a handful they said.
Not bad they said.
Lockdown they said.
Whole city they said.
Trust the Chinese they said.
To imprison a whole city they said.
2.
Should we be worried they said.
Nah they said.
Just a flu they said.
Passes in a day they said.
Carry on they said.
As you were they said.
This too shall pass they said.
3.
More than a flu they said.
An outbreak they said.
Pandemic they said.
Cancel flights they said.
Kung-flu they said.
Haha. Get it they said.
Shame about Coachella they said.
4.
Spain they said.
Is a mess they said.
Italy is worse they said.
Germany is dicey they said.
Amigos, ragazzi, freunde they said:
We are fucked they said.
Wait until this shit hits Africa they said.
5.
Hates the heat and dry season they said.
Hates the rain and tropics they said.
Hates the savannahs and mountains they said.
Hates the desert they said.
Hates blacks they said.
Stronger genes they said.
Thank god for melanin they said.
6.
Overwhelmed they said.
Flatten the curve they said.
First wave they said.
Curfew they said.
Stay at home they said.
Two metres apart they said.
Containment they said.
7.
Gone by winter’s end they said.
Eradicated by spring they said.
August for sure they said.
Definitely September they said.
We are monitoring they said.
The ongoing situation they said.
Dynamic situation they said.
(What does that mean they said.)
(Euphemism for no solutions they said.)
8.
Breaking news they said!
Vaccine they said!
Plural—vaccines—they said.
High efficacy rates they said.
Cheapest one they said.
Yes but its from Oxford they said.
All in they said!
9.
Good news they said.
Namibia: small population they said.
Slower spread they said.
COVAX paid in full they said.
Quicker to vaccinate they said.
Arrives in November they said.
Better late than never they said.
10.
Better news they said.
December they said.
In 2021 they said.
Early or mid-January they said.
Mid to late February they said.
Somewhere in March they said.
We have the receipts they said.
11.
Just news they said.
Be patient they said.
No stock they said.
West bought it all up they said.
Patents they said.
Vaccine colonisation they said.
Another dynamic situation they said.
12.
No news they said.
Nothing we can do they said.
Wear a mask they said.
Wash your hands they said.
Socially distance they said.
From your family and friends they said.
And yourself they said.
13.
Just hold on they said.
Next week they said.
Soon and very soon they said.
Now-now they said.
Surely they said.
This too shall pass they said.
And you with it they said.
Streetlights
The orange glow of streetlights
breaking the pavement into clauses
of relative safety and intervals of tarmac
the municipality cares about
—unlike the wellbeing of women
who walk without earphones
and owl-neck twists of the head
looking for assailants lurking in runners
in Nike or Under Armour
who approach, approach
approach—look left
approach—look right
approach—for an escape route
approach—danger!
approach—
and step
off the the curb
to run on the road
—pant, pant, pant—“Hallo!”—pant, pant, pant—
And isn’t that nice
just another jogger
and not a rapist or robber.
Thank god for the streetlights
like commas, regular in the privileged dusk:
fifteen paces, dark—light
fifteen paces, night—bright
and fifteen paces, dim—electricity!
Until they dwindle in the public school suburbs
with the park and broken swings swaying
creaking from the wind and momentum
of ghost children whose mothers
won’t let them play out that way
anymore because—another walker,
a man, behind, heavy footsteps like fullstops
gaining—look left
gaining—look right
gaining—for a way out
gaining—how far to the next streetlight?
Only a couple of paces—
—ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four
three, and a-two, and a-one
here we go—light, witnesses, action!
He passes, head under cap
just another man on his way home.
The streetlights
like punctuation marks
become scarce like
the boss’s emails where sentences go unchecked
letting the pavement become a stream of consciousness
with no start or end or break—another man, approaching
twenty or more paces to the next streetlight
nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen
fifteen, fourteen—another man, approaching
thirteen—look left for a single spot of security
twelve—look right for a witness
eleven—look ahead to identify the attacker
ten—a headline:
Another warning against walking in the dark.