On a dark long night in Barkambu,
While sitting in a sphere, to hear,
Of a tome,
From a sage,
Who trends his words like a bard.
A giant we were,
He started:
We toiled on fecund lands,
And bartered in ample harvest.
Penury was annonymous,
Because, we had a means to an end.
Figuratively we asked; what?
With a smile he answered;
'Farming'.
Comically, he said;
Our Ladies were maidens,
For Bachelors to wed,
Until death stung them apart,
Like a spurn seed when sowed.
We were raped of our lifestyles,
And aborted our values.
In a neigh tone, he said;
We were redefined,
And made undefined.
With our hearts and faces bathed with misery,
And our mouth clothed with questions,
We asked; who is this giant?
Fragily, he said;
This is Africa.
With a baffled mind,
And an agaped mouth,
I furthered; who took away her pride?
In a frained manner, he said;
Who could have reprieved Africa, her prime?
