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