Tuesday, November 21, 2006

The Encounter

the encounter
By Africano Mande
O’ Maridi! O’ Maridi!
Don’t you bellow for me.
I ‘m the son,
Ain’t more or less a son.
So far muluya nda kuwa.
I rode on a buffalo in a leopard skin,
Charging with my pala burning red.
I pierced through your heart,
You proclaimed,
Come! Come! Come on!
Down on earth I came.
I cried to find the glory,
Searched for my civilisation,
But down on my feet,
The graves of Banzoro and Gedima rattled.
They both admitted that,
The civilisation I’m to inherit,
Is nothing but the numerous graves.
And it will not be easy.
My! Should I tarry to be the witness?
Or I should promise that,
I will testify.
In my oath with Maridi,
I vowed to rise when the morning comes.
And with Ambiringi under my feet,
I will blow the trumpet of Mande.
And that day,
Those below and beyond the hills,
Will all gather to march.
Even the widows will get their share of musala.

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