Our first ancestor the great Nomad,
Moved from one place to another
With a rod straddled across his shoulders,
Cattle moving, eating, defeacating, mating all around him,
Skitting the landscape of countries, continents
To feed cattle, fatten them up for sale
To keep body and soul together.
The nomadic gene stretched from generation to generation
And the anti-settling nature deprived of a steady home,
But progeny increased year after year,
Each cultivating own herd,
Needing space to feed and fatten cow herds.
The tight environment grated on already raw nerves
Aggression turned on the settlers and owners of landscapes,
We did not remember that the nomadic lifestyle proudly imposed on us by our ancestors
Would turn a curse,
Render us frustrated wanderers
Longing after settler heritage.
Alas the great Nomad never ranched cattle,
Or we would have true homes,
We would be peaceful and rich,
Fully developed mentally, physically and spiritually,
Not converted to heartless beasts forcefully claiming settler lands,
I do not understand the nomadic trait,
Not owning a home,
What perverse joy we grasped from wandering the earth.
Now, the wandering spirit has turned rogue,
Seeking for a place to call home,
But at the brutal expense of innocent settlers
Whose ancestor was wise from the word go!
Claiming lands, settling, farming crops and livestock,
Oh! I rue the lot that pushed me to be born
To nomadic heritage
The worst curse ever created.
Picture: whatsupibadan.com
