THE MAN MAD

His clothes torn

His looks ragged

His body dirty and stinky,

The man sat on a pile of rubbish

He brushed away rubbish from rubbish

In search of something

Something indispensable to him

I watched closely

And as I did so, pondered what he could be searching for

So desperately

He stood up and went to another side of the piled rubbish: He continued his frantic search

At last, he pulled out something

It was in the famous black Ghanaian polythene bag

He had kept certain things in his left hand and was therefore compelled to use his right hand to open what seemed to me, what he had been searching for

Carefully, I watched

At what his next step would be

But was no where surprised when I realized it was food

It probably is no news to anyone

And so was it not to me

He opened the leftover food he had found

And I saw him throw some parts of the food he had found away

This was so obvious: he was taking away a part that he knew or sensed could not be eaten away

At this point in time, could I be nothing but marvelled?!

Mad men are said to be psychologically unrivalled

How in God’s name, then did this man, mad, have the notion that the food he had “bought” from the market of rubbish contained unwanted material?!

This definitely isn’t a man mad

For, even with his madness, he still has sense

Yet, a senseless man is said to be mad

Then to me, he is the sense man mad