A new poem that tells what most people who leave their villages to go search for better lives get to see when they must have changed beyond expectation. Read and share your thoughts
My Blessing has Become my Curse
As kids,
we drove bicycle tyres around
and made toy cars out of slippers,
we gathered in the rain and moulded statues out of mud,
we were the reason the cashew tree in Papa's compound
was always barren all through the years
we knew the ghosts that consumed chickens
in the neighbourhood,
together we swam in that muddy river
splashing mud on each other's bodies.
Was it not six or seven years ago that,
we sat at Mama G's Place
sipping hot pepper soup
while sending empty bottles of beer
back to the distilleries?
Together we visited nightclubs
and stormed the Sunday parties
dancing and jubilating widly.
we drove bicycle tyres around
and made toy cars out of slippers,
we gathered in the rain and moulded statues out of mud,
we were the reason the cashew tree in Papa's compound
was always barren all through the years
we knew the ghosts that consumed chickens
in the neighbourhood,
together we swam in that muddy river
splashing mud on each other's bodies.
Was it not six or seven years ago that,
we sat at Mama G's Place
sipping hot pepper soup
while sending empty bottles of beer
back to the distilleries?
Together we visited nightclubs
and stormed the Sunday parties
dancing and jubilating widly.
All was good till I went in search of the golden fleece
I returned home to meet my friends
and I found myself outside a ringed line
I am now the strange phenomenom clutching books around like a possessed man
I am the man with glasses sitting stiffly
on the edge of his nose
I am the man who now wears a long tie and suit
I sit with my friends but they are uncomfortable
no one wants to call me anymore
For a visit to Mama G's place
or invite me for a cup of burukutu and palm wine.
At the parties,
I am expected to sit quietly and not dance
I am introduced as the man who has seen it all,
one who can speak the thunder and fire of a foreign tongue
and they expect me to be happy
how can they know that I am embittered
because I have become a friendless sage?
My blessing has become my curse!
I returned home to meet my friends
and I found myself outside a ringed line
I am now the strange phenomenom clutching books around like a possessed man
I am the man with glasses sitting stiffly
on the edge of his nose
I am the man who now wears a long tie and suit
I sit with my friends but they are uncomfortable
no one wants to call me anymore
For a visit to Mama G's place
or invite me for a cup of burukutu and palm wine.
At the parties,
I am expected to sit quietly and not dance
I am introduced as the man who has seen it all,
one who can speak the thunder and fire of a foreign tongue
and they expect me to be happy
how can they know that I am embittered
because I have become a friendless sage?
My blessing has become my curse!
Copyright Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy 2015
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ReplyDeleteI love this !
More righteous pen to your ink oh prolific writer ❤️