Certainty in a slum is present by its absence
Or rather,slums are ever certain of uncertainty
If ever there's certainty then;
The night will be colder in the cold season
Hotter in the hot season
Mounts and molehills of human waste will line up the narrow strips between shacks
And uric acid will prick the nostrils and eat the iron walls and roofs
Hunger pangs will keep awake and keep you awake to plot for the next crumbs
Thirst like a shadow always by your door.

Otherwise;
Uncertainty rules the slums
Who knows when it will flood and floor down the flats and flow away with life?
What time the private developer will wall you in and erect a pyramid?
Or the government relocate you the relics to put up new houses and reallocate itself?
Who knows when cholera or typhoid
Pneumonia or dysentery will wash away this human pain?
When Corona will corrode the Toyota Corolla junk that's your house?

Slums are certainly vote rich
Are certain of periodic promises
On periodic podiums and seasonal shows of compassion
From certain honchos who in paradise dwell(they're certain of your vote)
Be certain, they won't return till it's certain they must.