By Niyi Osundare
Hunger walks the streets
Bold and proudly Hungerian……..
“Touch me not” Imperial Yam commands
“Unless you have come
With golden hands
And a palanquin laden with weighty pounds”
Beans rump around
In the furrows of the market
“Touch me not”, also, their golden rule,
Costly antimony in each eye
Corn dumps us all
In the howling maze of empty stomachs
Just a few grains on the selling tray
And the seller asks for a pretty fortune
Plantain towers above the stalls
Its fingers decked with diamond rings
Once common snack in lowly huts
Its new name is ‘Touch Me Not”
Ah rice, oh compatriots,
Is the golden grain of the gong
Home-grown or foreign-freighted
Just one bag will deplete your purse
Here we are
In brave Hungeria
Our stomachs so empty
Because our heads are doubly so
Hunger romps through our streets
With a retinue of bristling bones
Oh so fat our Eating Chiefs
How so famished their luckless land!
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