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