OH ADUKE!
Look at you!
Too foreign for here. Too foreign for there.
Hear your voice!
Too British for here. Too accented for there.
Source
Look in the mirror.
You're a white woman adorned in our very own buba and gele.
Look again馃憖馃憖
You're a Yoruba woman whom skinny jeans would never really fit
Hear your voice.
Your Yoruba is flawed. Your English, barely audible.
Hear your tone
In the bid to please your captors, you sound neither like the queen, nor the Oba. You've turned your tone into an ugly mix of Yoruba and English. Let's call it Yorubanglish.
Hear the drums
Have you forgotten so quickly the sounds of the drums in the village as we swayed our feet to Bata, in rendition to the gods of our land?
But here you are, bowing knee first to the white gods, forgetting that the old ones came before the new.
Find Your Place
Oh! The land of the brave and the free you claim.
But indeed are you free?
Let me tell you a truth; one passed down in hushed whispers of our ancestors.
You'll never belong in the land of your oppressors.
Aduke!
Aduke; a name that sound like the mixture of milk and honey flowing over sweet licorice.
But it was too local for you. So you're now Adele.
Adele!
Find your spirit.
Find your place.
Retrace your steps to the palace.
You are royalty.
Source
Aduke!
Dismiss not my words. They're pellets of ancient wisdom.
Lessons from history, soaked in the blood of ancients cut down like Iroko in the forests.
Aduke, hear my voice. Daughter of the palm wine tapper.
馃槑馃槑
