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A STRANGE SUNSET AT THE CLOUDSCAPE OF IFE

afrikaBy Ogunyomi Israel Abidemi

(For George Akinyemi Iwilade ‘Afrika’, Former Secretary General of the Great Ife Student’s Union, aged 21, murdered with some other five people on the 10th July, 1999.)

I

O this tenacious tree with flourishing flowers

As the stars, at the most conscious centre

Of an ever-green garden

Into which fabulous flow of activism

Gallantly gush from the deepest forest of Aluta!

II

Prematurely hewed down, it was

By the axes of some dreadful diggers –

Empty-headed-employees of a senile surveyor.

III

Ah!

Afrika!

A continent is satanically slaughtered

As wild bull on a sacred altar of a state.

IV

Mourn him, o, mourn him,

Mourn this giant gadfly

O inhabitants of Awo,

Castle of great men!

Mourn him, Awoites, mourn Afrika:

For out of your conscious court,

As weed his sturdy soul was uprooted

And flung furiously as chaff into the wending wind.

V

O intelligentsia scattered across continents

By the whirlwind of wisdom

That annually shakes the blossoming boughs

Of Awoversity,

Speak of this strangled Eaglet

At the triad trends of Iroko tree.

Speak of this cancelled crescent

At the naked landscape of Awo’s earth.

Speak of this banished beacon

At the blatant edges of pillaged plots

Speak of this cornered comrade

At the pathless hollows of walloped walls

Speak of Iwilade, speak of Afrika.

VI

Sing, freshmen, sing;

Sing the song of Africa:

Sing the song of your fallen hero.

Sing of the darkened light

At the corridor of Awo hall.

Sing of Africa, sing of Africa;

Sing of the murdered moon

At the monstrous midnight of tenth July

VII

Weep stalites, weep;

Tell the painful tale

Of early July to the curious minds

In the spreeing ship of activism.

Set weary woods ablaze

At the barest stage of Anglo-Moz

Weep for Afrika, tell the tale

Of this strange sunset at the cloudscape of Ife.

VIII

Awake, O Afrika, awake!

From a careless slumber of sixteen seasons

Awake! Probe the bellies of baldish vultures

That devoured your flaccid flesh.

IX

Arise, O Afrika, arise!

Roar out as an injured lion

From the shriveling shadow of justices

And reopen the ancient books of long-forgotten crime.

About the author

Bada Yusuf Amoo

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