The Kola
Pascal Umekwe
Owerri, Nigeria
Friday, February 1, 2008
Before early birds colour trees with twilight songs
The clan files into the hut of the sun,
Sits around the foot of their sacred ordeal
Beside sinks where the courteous sun
Washes his fingers in the morning mist
And serves the clan with lobes of split dawn
Splayed on Agwu's smokey bowl.
Then the great Dibia will announce:
Cast unto lying roosters the tongues of
Foreboding that stick to lobes of friendship
But when the kola rejects a polite split
Away little children
The tight lips of Agwu is the scare of a face without a mouth
Women run to your huts
His majestic silence would not woo your talkative ears
An oji ogbu has been served,
The silence of Agwu is for
Old ears propped on pillars of manhood
On the brink of plenty
Twin lobes foretell a season of smiles
Wealth streams shall flow through all homesteads
The moon shall smile on our romping children
Sentinels of barns shall overlook our land
Wealth shall come with the gray feet of dawn
It shall come sliding down every noon ray
Down to the very pillows we rest our heads
For oji aku has been served.
Manly fists shall split three lobes
The same shall quell the war tones in our chants
Shall midwife our tubers from the womb of earth
Strength shall grow in the blood of our male children
On the forth lobe
Libations shall run down the throats of our ancestors
Our baskets of riddles shall be buried in ancestral shrines
Gourds of palm wine would grace the goat's entourag
The white rooster shall crow forth our release
His blood, drown our pain...
Peace will share our beds.
When the gods smile over our plaintive brims
More lobes whisper their befuddling beneficence
Wine will glide down the lips of our seasons
We shall hear the happy
chatter of bantering barns
Our oil pots never growing lean
Our rams shall run happy harems
Our children shall outlive us.