Nwadike Johnpaul, a poet, is studying for his masters degree in English at the University of Ibadan.
Their royal highness
Igbo enweghi Eze,
Maka na amaghi ndi ana eze.*
Yet they clamp down us
With despotism they rule us.
Dare not challenge the establishment
Lest your immediate banishment.
Anaghi azo Eze azo,
Ana amu Eze amu.**
Away with lineage and hereditary
Let the richest be the leader.
A pauper dare not near the territory
Tell him to stop being a dreamer.
Today, the throne, tumultuous
Lost in the venomous talons of unruly Emperors
Who play ping pong with the people’s lores.
Igbo enweghi Eze,
Maka na amaghi ndi ana eze.
Ojiofos have fled for safety
Eze mmuos have left the dynasty
Ndi Nze na Ozos have been bought over
Ofo na Ogus have been left to hover.***
The status quo have been smeared
On our culture they have sneered.
Gloating over our misfortunes in cheers
Unmoved and unperturbed by our jeers.
Anaghi azo Eze azo,
Ana amu Eze amu.
We are inoculated with buzzing drones;
Bereft of tradition.
We are ruled from make-shift thrones
To ChukwuAbiama, they can’t make an incantation?
Our Ezes are his Excellency’s aides
Handy escorts like scruple maids
Closer to him than his shadows
Voluntary sycophants and gigolos.
Igbo enweghi Eze,
Maka na amaghi ndi ana eze.
Chieftaincies bestowed on
Men of mendacious mien
Our destinies overseen by
Ragged rogues of rampaging rascality.
“Their Royal Highnesses”:
Donning grandiose robes of mediocrity
Wielding nondescript staff of blood-letting
Heading awkward crowns of mischievousness
Sitting on salacious serpentine stools.
Anaghi azo Eze azo,
Ana amu Eze amu.
The wrath of Chukwu Okike Abiama****
Shall never depart from their
Households…
For the thrones perverted
To evil Chambers
Igbo enweghi Eze,
Maka na amaghi ndi ana eze.
* The Igbo have no king
Lest we crown a traitor
** A king is not made
A king is born
*** The above are custodians of norms and values in traditional Igbo cultures.
**** God
You danced so soon
(For Nwokorie ‘Morgan’ Chinomso…2007)
With tired eyelids
Amid these sulky lines of mine
That are vestiges of my vertigos
I weep for a star
That never became.
A star, purloined
By a thick-dark-smoky-cloud
Before its debut twinkle.
Chi ewere ehihie jie!*
My heart is blown to fragments
Belaboured with the herculean task
Of mourning a beloved this morning.
Yours was a tale
Of a light dimmed
Before the first ray shone.
Chi ewere ehihie jie!
Morgan,
You are a ship that sunk
Before it set sail
On the screwed sea of life;
A cotyledon
Scathed on the eve of budding.
Udu m akuwaa la!**
I weep…
For death did drum
And you dauntlessly danced
Into Esiaba’s elegiac ark
For you loved to dance
This time, into limbo
When the ‘dance floor’ was still fresh
With Michael Jackson’s ‘blood’.
Udu m akuwaa la!
Though
Man is born to dance
But…
So soon?
Chi ewere ehihie jie !
Udu m akuwaa la!
* The sun has set at dawn
** My earthenware is broken.