An Ode to Kongi!

In a loud burst of robust sound,
The talking drums of old Abeokuta heralded
The birth of a Son to a mother, a rare gift to his people.
Olo-du-mare had spent two rainy seasons to carve him;
A seed gotten from under the ancient Rocks of Olumo
Had thus germinated and brung forth fruit.

Wole Omo Ake! you ate words straight from birth,
Crying a harsh song, as you protested your 'rebirth'.
(Because you must have been a god afore now)
The hues and cries of happy women drowned yours
As the menfolk wondered what took you so long.
Amongst your mates, Olo-du-mare showered your skanty hair with rain.

With tiny limbs, you ran from boyhood to manhood,
Weaned on the ancestors food and drink.
You spat out their words and wrote it on sand and then on trees.
Side-stepping the ladder of Aristocracy,
You chose instead the 'thorny' paths of humility and service.
Kongi, who taught you? Was it ...? No wonder!

From Great Ife to the Alfred Nobel's Norway,
Your name is feared, acclaimed and celebrated.
Old grey hair, you have become the master wordsmith.
Welding together words and the souls of the oppressed across races,
Spilling ink, sweating and spewing saliva,
Fighting, scratching and running like ink on pad.

When in that black man's country, you spoke and wove words,
You were chastised, hunted and ambushed, wisely you fled.
As Khalifa after Khalifa rode on the weary backs of your people,
Turning them to beasts carrying their own burdens.
Olo-du-mare could not standby and would not cheer them on.
Suddenly, Death and a man died.

Walking with sandaled feet on the crest of new wind,
You sailed back from yonder, and they asked, Wole from whence?
Hence you became our cocoon, our shell and our symbol.
But learned one, Which is more important, the Zebra or its Stripes?
Wise one, are you the Gift or the wrapping paper?
Ahoy! Ol' Black eye,
Sail on!

Wole Soyinka is a Nigerian Legend and a Nobel Laureate.