Abel Iseyen Ancientman writes

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I shall sing a song,
an incarnated song
my Nka-ka taught me -
sitting at the bank
of a soughing river;
her grey hairs pouring
forth wisdom

I shall sing it with
an enduring passion...
with every lyric charming
all hearts...

the drummers -
whose fingers have been
oiled by the gods,
shall stand still, dumbfounded,
with the drums rolling
away - instinctively...

...and you shall wish for
a dance
but your legs shall be
too heavy to move...

Yesteryears,
when they gatecrashed into
our doorsteps
they said we were not at home
that we were aboreals...
that all they met were blank pages -
devoid of any organized lives,
a deleterious remark...
...tarnishing our image.

But they were wrong
for we did things in
our own ways,
and in accordance with
the wills of our gods...
we had the right!

Yes, we were a set of sophisticated people -
setting our standards
in our own ways
and in our own wills...
our gods are our witnesses!

You strangers saw those standards
but comprehended them not;
but they were in our dance steps,
in the beads we wore,
in the beauties of our women,
in the broad chests of our men...

...they were everywhere!

in our songs...
in our shrines...
in our dresses...
in the catwalks of our girls...
on every monument...

They were everywhere!

in the talking drums...
in our reverenced carvings...
in our sweet flutes...
in our moonlight tales...
in our customs and traditions...

Strangers, they were everywhere...
our gods are our witnesses...

You saw all these things
but comprehended them not...

we pardon your misconception of us,
for the mouth must give birth
to the contents of the mind...

 

Soliloquy: Life's Fragile Fictions -- Moyo Ogundipe