Tèmítọ́pẹ́ Ọ̀jẹ́délé-Adéjùmọ̀

If you offer me an orange,

And I squeeze out the juice too hard,

And I turn it out to eat the carpels,

Please don’t call me local.

If, on a sunny day, we are out and about ,

And you say you feel like having

Cassava flakes immersed in ice,

And I ask if you meant garri and ice water,

Please don’t call me local.

If your sister is getting married,

And you serve me poulet a’la bretonne,

I put it aside and order for amala,
Please don’t call me local.

Bolanle, it is you who has now chosen to be Bolz,

Because you now use Iphone and work in Lekki;

Where you struggle to walk in borrowed stilettoes.

If you can’t diagnose yourself of dialectical tension,

Please don’t call me local!