SLAVERY IN AFRICA
We believe they rowed their boats of
tumults into our region; carrying with
them bags of conundrums, while we
drummed our drums and jollied to their,
The way they dressed, the way
they addressed us
Made us mime to the harmony and
yearns in their speeches of a dawn
to civility and hale: that was a start
of the course of slavery in Africa.
We still thought they were our
brothers, because our chiefs rolled
floridly with their proposals
While we were mockingly disposed
In the field, or given to bespoken
tailors as apprehends; as helps; in
servitude; ‘posed to carry out
orders as the come in flicks.
We became babies in our own
motherland we became cartage of
their foreign plans.
We cleared our huts so that they
could find comfy and build on our
strengths draining our tears as they
wryly whipped us on our backs.
Their wisdom their prowess
They used to molest
And we gazed in cluelessness
Cause we still didn’t see it as
slavery then – but as pain, so
Then came the rots
From the riots that outplayed later
When they considered us dip shits,
Wormlings that indeed needed to
fang their overheated exposure for
our sustenance and hale
They made our home a living hell.
They churned-in as much deceit as
they could and set courses on sail,
Cussing our place
And taking over the grazing of our
cattle’s and livestock; making our
livelihood a laughing stock.
We do not doubt their somewhat
positive stride or the cauldron with
irking fluid steaming forth but…
‘Morrow, and for as long as life
dims fit to still exist
We shall triumph
Our skin shall be our trump
And our minds shall cause a stop
to ethnocentrism and
Cause we all, can still be one
without any ill notion.
– Uwen Precious Ogban