Category: Niyi Osundare

If you do not tell your own story

Someone else will tell it for you

Yes, if you don’t tell your own story

Someone else will tell it for you

They will peddle lies on Memory’s street

And swear what they say is divinely true

The more they eat

The more hungry they get

Haba! The more they eat

The more hungry they get

The more uncertain the dice

The blindly harder the bet

We are not at war with peace

We are only at peace with war

We are not at war with peace

We are only at peace with war

Hedging, quibbling, dubious punning

Will get us there, rude and raw

Between what History says

And what the Future portends

Yes, between what History says

And what the Future portends

Let us show Memory’s tortuous path

To him who says the Truth offends

Shall we talk about those noontide dreams

That have nightmared our sleep

Asking, shall we talk about noontide dreams

That have nightmared our sleep?

The journey up our memory’s mountain

Is long and perilously steep

Hope never dwindles

Into the doldrums of songless times

Say, Hope never dwindles

Into the doldrums of songless times

Sometimes patient like silent dust

Then clamorous like a bell that forever chimes

 

It stirs the fruits between the leaves

Even when the wind is low and pensively limp

Yes, it stirs the fruits between the leaves

Even when the wind is low and pensively limp

Whatever alapandede misses on the roof

May be found quietly stirring in the eaves

 

There is so much more to the house

Than the open drama of its door

Say, there is so much more to the house

Than the open drama of its door

A slumber frustrated on the golden bed

May find ready comfort on the plebeian floor

 

The porridge of a hundred years

May still burn the itchy finger

Hear? The porridge of a hundred years

May still burn the itchy finger

A gathering of rippling songs swells

Behind the throat of the timid singer

 

Hope never breaks like ill-wrought iron

Made, as it is, of the tough and tender Song

Say, Hope never breaks like ill-wrought iron

Made, as it is, of the tough and tender Song

From seasons which wane like the mournful moon

It springs into view, slow and strong

Hunger walks the streets

With a retinue of naked ribs

Agbaga!, Hunger walks the streets

With a retinue of naked ribs

Behind him a legion of tax-gatherers

Bearing bleeding curses and flaying whips

 

Yam’s new name is “Mafowokanmi”*

Bread has raced past the labourer’s reach

Yes, yam’s new name is “Mafowokami”

While bread has sprinted past the labourer’s reach

There is no written law in this land

That desperate Want can never breach

 

Rumbling stomachs, dizzy motions

Sleepless eyes at war with the clock

Say, rumbling stomachs, dizzy motions

Sleepless eyes at war with the clock

Kwashiorkor children parade the roads

In a land beyond shame, immune to shock

 

A desperate mother gives up

Her baby for a bag of rice

Eewo**!, desperate mother gives up

Her baby for a bag of rice

Her only iro*** flutters in the wind

Held together by a league of lice

 

In this land of blind and soulless rulers

Hunger walks the streets, a cold, oblivious Emperor

Say, in this land of blind and soulless rulers

Hunger walks the streets, a cold, oblivious Emperor

To the few who have, this is a rich, caring nation

To the many so deprived, it is nothing short of a gigantic error

 

*Touch-me-not

** wrapper won by women

*** Abomination

You may have my dead body

But never, never, my dead Conscience

Say, you may have my dead body

But never, never, my dead Conscience

I wade through Life’s turbulent waters

With pride and measured patience

 

What happens to a race horse

Which springs a sprain in its favourite leg?

Asking, what happens to a race horse

Which springs a sprain in its favourite leg?

What becomes of that veteran surveyor

Who never knows where to find his peg?

 

What pain unsettles the sinews of the yam

Ask the knife

Yes, what pain unsettles the sinews of the yam

Ask the knife

That sharp-toothed gallant of the fireplace

With its flashy swagger and hungry strife

 

The politician’s argument collapses

Under the weight of its lies

Yes, the politician’s argument collapses

Under the weight of its own lies

He promises bridges where there are no rivers

His castle looms in the idle air

 

What does Hope look like

In the mirror of the dream-killer?

Asking, what does Hope look like

In the mirror of the dream-killer?

He tells every lie to look like a leader

But we know what he is: a ruthless dealer