Monday, 30 September 2013

Our Bad News

Uncle Judas betrayed Grandpa Yesu
He escaped with the returns from the New Yam Harvest
And absconded to a far country, which no one knows
Then Grandpa Yesu, the aged family breadwinner, dies
And while everyone argues his funeral arrangements
The old thief walks in gallantly, flaunting his luxurious garment

We heard Uncle Judas made big money from unarmed robbery in the big city
We know he married a strange woman who bears him weird children
But we also know his woman as the biggest problem in our village
Since the rich bandit brought home the evil-ridden gorgon
And proclaimed her his till-death-do-us-apart
We have stopped seeing goodies in his stagnant life

Since she started getting pregnant and coughing phlegm
And giving birth to monsters that are no taller than a witch’s broomstick
We have caught many thieves who often disappeared before daylight
Since she started chanting incantations in the briskest hour of the night
Alleging the performance of her precious family sacraments
We have lost count of infants whose living are quelled in the daytime

Since she joined the naive women at the market square
Selling articles that only unfortunate foreigners buy
We have heard incessant cries from neighbouring villages
Since some politicians from Nigeria started patronising her
Seeking her blessed curses for their selfish ambitions
We have started hearing funny stories about that country

Now, we are fed up and will remove her from her place
We are angered by her unleashing of this living hell
And will offer sweet-smelling burnt offerings to set it away
But, she was the same witch a mob stoned to death one fortnight ago
The one they thought had died –who also lived the next day
Some say it was Uncle’s life that she took to live again

It was also heard that she had died nine awesome times
And she has relived life to enjoy the freshness of air at her balcony
In the cool of the evening hours, upon the inexplicable death of another child
Yet, in a revelation, we see the end of life come to her quickly
For she will be a sign and an object of God’s terrible power
She will be a scapegoat to her comrades and a message to the politicians

Since she houses no more of innocent orphans for voodoo power
And has no more of her own children to die her own death
We know she has run out of her so-called uncountable life lines
And the gods of this world will beg the God of all things on her behalf
They will offer many unsolicited sacrifices at their dirty shrines
But at the endmost end, nemesis will be found in the right hand of God

Then, our infinite bad news will know a definite end
And our good news will find a place in foreign ears
And with smiles long-lost and ecstasy newly restored
We will assemble in the public squares of our land
Without chains, singing songs of change in growing cheer
And in the end, we shall doubtless yell in harmony, “Jubilee!”

Happy Independence Day in advance
© Moraks 2012

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