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D.M Aderibigbe-l

Tour Guide



I step downward from the staircase of

The plane,

I step on the runway at the Kualar Lumpur

International airport.



called. Huh! I exclaim.

The gnarly control tower, like the exterior of a

World-class stadium, could be

mistaken for a presidential palace with easy-peasy.


I move to the to core of Kuala Lumpur, to catch a

Rewarding glimpse on the previous closest building to

Heaven – Petronas Twin Tower -


A bullet-shaped edifice, pointing to the sky,

Glassy, steely, and corrugated skinned, illuminating from Within, like

a firefly.


I flip to the still water in the fog drunken Mulu Cave,

Then go over to view the orphaned Orangutans at

The Sepilok Rehabilitation Centre,


I can also not forget the squirming skinny grasses, like snakes,

Slithering on the limpid sand of Langkawi, like worms slipping through

Slippery corners of a batty bathroom, facing,


A see through beach, sluggishly dribbling around,

With many layers on its surface, like

The sporting waves. On the left side of its bank, a moderate hill,

Covered thoroughly by nourished green plants,

Like a head wearing a wig, relaxes.


Mount Kinabalu, a thumping rock with

the shape of Australian map from a

Distance, It’s ululated acme, so beautiful,

That white smokes from the sky settle therein, like we (humans) settle on


I hear about 326 species of feathers, and about

100 of our little brothers, enchanted by its sweetness.


The Taman Negara, a radiant aged tropical forest the

Guide tells me, the longest canopy walkway in the

World, he adds.


I see an Indian tourist walking with his

Toes on the thinnest footpath one could

Ever think off, hanging slightly loosed in a height (up to 30 feet),

Swinging slowly, like a cloth spread on a line, shaken by gentle breeze.

The barbed wire parapets, as tall as the

Shoulder of the lanky Indian,


The huge photosynthetic atmosphere below, an estate for

Many Asian elephants, tigers, leopards and rhinos (I didn’t

See any though.)


Georgetown inner city, or perchance, Chinese City,

The town that keeps the name of Britain’s

King George III, from joining him in his

Royal grave.

Hanging on the Northeast of Penang Island,

With perpetual gratitude to providence

For making it the most comely architectural creation in

The full length of Southeast Asia.


The Cameron highland, a colonial gift,

An octogenarian slope topography, yet

Covered in ageless green grasses,

With repeated lines, like those on tyres.

Wet daily with the collective sweat of the feet of 34 thousand

Malays, Chinese and Indians,


I turn the last page of my magical Malaysian tour

Hesitantly, like a prisoner, asked to

Return back to his jail after a transient talk with his visiting wife.


My friend asks me to pass the Malaysian

Travel book I’ve been obsessively scanning

for hours to him.