Journeying from hut-less homes to nowhere
Seeking destiny maledicted by greed
Oh, we remember that ancient song…
That famous funeral song
Sung by the tribe in the night of the day
We must chant this song once more
To chase malaise from our brows
Man dies woman born another
Man shall never cease to exist
Men shall always be men!
So we chorus this humdrum song with tremulous lips
With air mixed with jacaranda’s fragrances, refreshing our strength
But where do we go from here?
All day long, we chase the winds, finding nothing
Let’s rebrand, we can’t remain hotchpotches forever
Where forth shall our next foot tread?
Our children are dying of hunger
Our crops re half-eaten by termites
Soon, very soon, the oil in our lamps shall run dry
Where shall we find the sunlight?
This can’t be the route to the Greenland
We must retrace steps
No doubt, we’re the true offspring of our fathers
But we must not follow their footprints to our fall
Compatriots, we must recreate history
Look, the route to the stars is not much farther
With much hard work and determination
We shall get there.
Written by: Abel Iseyen Ancientman
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.