SLAVE MASTER'S
Sweat seep…
Tears descend…
All from my brains
Memories of me
sitting on a bough of the baobab tree
Counting captives
chained underneath my forefathers shed
Stares at me in the soul
I did not know!
I never knew!
Grandpa said mirror is of value…
Papa said corned beef is vital…
Wofa said whisky is needed…
More than vulnerable men
Oh I helped to hung the gun
“It will shoot you if you move” papa warned
I sat and laughed breathlessly
As they seek permission from ‘egya etu’
And obediently returning after urinating
Oh yes! I helped count the men
‘This looks stronger…
a good deal must earn us a mirror
We shall plead over the weaker ones
A tin of corned beef for each will do.
Grandpa rested,
wasting his lifetime in front of a mirror
Till the mirror cast no reflection of him
Papa was choked to death
by a meat bone from a corned beef
Uncle drunk his soul out
Choked his guts with whisky
till his breath finally seized
But I, was left in ignorance
Thirsting for answers…
Bring the traders to my feet
Cut this ones’ head!
Oh! So his blood is red?
Ah! So there is no god like a white man?
There is no god at the other end of the sea?
Whom our natives are going to serve?
I need no elder to tell me the answer.
