Ibadan
S. Su’eddie Vershima Agema
The strokes on your children’s faces are washed
By the flood of folks who continually call you mother
The remains of tradition are left in tongues that defy
Cosmopolitan hugs of visitors who come in from varied lands
You accept their hugs and lay mats for them to become your children
Despite the offspring of your womb who hold on to the irony
Of a love that welcomes and yet alienates.
Stomachs dance to sweaty black mountains with ewedu
Eyes feast on riveting rusty roofs, legs stretching to Jericho for books
Pilgrims trace the footprints of Mbari, the Black Orpheus and transitions
Carved in history as other steps find life in new genial sands.
I have tasted your goodness, and I am lost in your ancestral modernity
Looking from Broking House heights and Cocoa’s cliffs, Dugbe’s heart is shown in Mokola’s madness
a million souls strip off sanity for shame as they forage in nature’s suit
Ibadan, your cemeteries swell, and Eko lures a trickling count
Yet, your stomach bloats with endless lines of ants who march
From Challenge to Samonda and beyond
Accidents await as automobiles kiss each other or eat raw flesh
Like your many other contraptions.
You hold out, patiently, Ibadan, gazing at your lands from Bower’s top
For you know every water shall dry, and memory will revere you.
The strokes on your children’s faces are washed
By the flood of folks who continually call you mother
The remains of tradition are left in tongues that defy
Cosmopolitan hugs of visitors who come in from varied lands
You accept their hugs and lay mats for them to become your children
Despite the offspring of your womb who hold on to the irony
Of a love that welcomes and yet alienates.
Stomachs dance to sweaty black mountains with ewedu
Eyes feast on riveting rusty roofs, legs stretching to Jericho for books
Pilgrims trace the footprints of Mbari, the Black Orpheus and transitions
Carved in history as other steps find life in new genial sands.
I have tasted your goodness, and I am lost in your ancestral modernity
Looking from Broking House heights and Cocoa’s cliffs, Dugbe’s heart is shown in Mokola’s madness
a million souls strip off sanity for shame as they forage in nature’s suit
Ibadan, your cemeteries swell, and Eko lures a trickling count
Yet, your stomach bloats with endless lines of ants who march
From Challenge to Samonda and beyond
Accidents await as automobiles kiss each other or eat raw flesh
Like your many other contraptions.
You hold out, patiently, Ibadan, gazing at your lands from Bower’s top
For you know every water shall dry, and memory will revere you.
S. Su’eddie Vershima Agema is an editor, culture activist, and development worker. A Chevening, University of Sussex and Benue State University alum, Su’eddie won the Association of Nigerian Authors Prize for Poetry 2014 and was awarded the Mandela Day Short Story Prize in 2016. He blogs at http://sueddie.wordpress.com and is @sueddieagema on most social media platforms.
|