Obioma

A heavy heart laden with the unfulfilled promises of mother Africa, An even heavier heart, laden with the disenchantment of mother Earth. Ripped, raped, and laid bare, like an Odyessy without a compass in the Mediterranean, She losses her bearings, hovering blindly in circles along paths which the Israelites trod. Over a century ago it has been since the Egyptians let us be, be we haven’t perhaps a couple more centuries.
Souls being sold cold under the auspices of brotherhood, flesh for flesh, a heart for a pound, Obioma in search of an ever-elusive bank of still waters, the Libyan Peninsula, a destination of near fulfillment of prophecies of Pastor Okoye. “A breadwinner you shall be” “Ise” You shall bring


honour to your Father’s house “Ise” Wealth shall never be  far from you “Ise!!” “Ise!!!” “Ise!!!” “Ise!!” cries Mama, in a bid to keep this blessing punctual, lest the devil may tamper with the driver’s patience.
With eyes filled with tears, Obioma bade farewell to all. A Christlike sacrifice she tells hereself that all may feed and live in merriment.

In this new world, humans will sell humans for meat, humans will kill humans for sport. I would make a ryme of the statement but my imagination remains sober. For how can a man be this to a man. The devil I assure you lives in no abyss, the heart of man is the address to the devil’s residence.

"Aga m ekwu nke a n'asụsụ Igbo, olumba m, ma ndị agbata obi m agaghị aghọta"
"Ina fadi a cikin Hausa, amma tsayawa a Arewa bai ba tsoro kawai ga mutanena ba"
"Bawo ni Emi yoo fẹ lati sọ eyi ni Yorùbá, ṣugbọn awọn ipa ipa ti mi ṣan mi" Could I say it in Efik, that the child witch hunters may seize with the killing of twins, or may I speak in Fulani, perhaps just maybe the herdsmen may be deterred from pulling the trigger.

In Africa I kept my hopes, hopes now fallen like the breasts of an African priestess.