Categories
Nature Poetry Pastoral Africa education folklore culture/tradition

Amuse: African Ostrich

1.
To you my feathery friend I write
In greying fields your fur I sight
Dangling by your sides are wings,
A tall neck, from which you may sing

2.
Caw caw, caw caw are your favourite words
The wind is your friend, the soil your playground,
The shrub is home, to it you rest when weary,
Your legs are strong, your claws even deadly

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3.
Evenings are for your quick runaways
You send stray rodents scampering away
I am not ashamed of your beautiful bard head
But you my fluffy friend, you are an amazing bird

4.
In the morning your scent fill the farmyard
You stand taller than scarecrows in our land

To have you here, beautiful and tall bird
Is a queer muse, but one of absolute good

Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore Igbo culture Nature Nigeria

Home: Africa

High up above the hills of Africa, the dark winged clouds of night were still folded above the village and surrounding valley. Man and the domestic animals that were his, slept. But the antelope of the forest and the small fleet-footed gazelle, were wide awake.

In a short time, early morning dew descend from ancient hills. Darkness play with light. Dancing figures of thick fog conceal their fight and the good or bad that wait for strangers. Huge trees stand like knights armed with branches and shield-like barks, their huge roots like the fingers of a masquerade waiting to grab their victim. Farther away, creatures of the dark retreat back to their caves and hideouts. Light must not befall them. Hunters retrace their step home.

When the sun rise, she threw her golden blanket over the land. Hills rise with it waking the inhabitants of green forest and man. Down the valley, birds began a chorus, strong enough to wake the heaviest sleeper. Bees, wasps buzz, crickets, hoppers quiz, and reptiles hiss, every life has got a role to play. There is joy and peace. Joy that comes with a beautiful sunny day. Peace that brought harmony between man and nature which he call home.

From afar pretty images of green submerged in bowels of earthly grey decorate the hilly scene. Smell of flowing stream rent the air above. Hawks call to the sunrise welcoming daylight, bush rodents nibble at cassava roots. The forest turn to a circus where Nature play her own tricks. Tree leaves shade the streams, so when fruits fall into the water little fishes scatter in excitement or fear. Waterfalls and huge rocks watch the quiet green below. Shy crabs watch too, amused and drunk with water. It is quiet in the morning but for birds building big nests in the forest. Few people went to the stream and farm. Little girls swept their compounds, older girls weaved baskets, little boys sat with their fathers, older boys visited traps and mischievous pets ran about playing. Up the trees monkeys muse picking fruits from trees. Little babies yell while mothers gather materials for breakfast. Fathers chew their kola or take tobacco snuff, as they prepare to visit farms. Weekend was a holiday and the villagers knew best to keep it so.

When the sun heat become mild, the play stage is set. Children roll out their games; football, cricket, chase, wrestling, high jump, sand games and more. Women visit their friends or market to buy provisions. Some men go to the beer parlor. The morning brew was ready and they must attend to it. Palm wine was healthy and fresh ones taste better than water. Many youth wait for noon to bath at streams and waterfalls.

Evening was the best time for reflection. Old men and women sat quiet, reflecting on the hills they call home. Sunset brought memories of the days stress. It brought home the market women, the farmer and fishermen. When the sun set, hills throw their warm shadow of comfort upon vales and the village. Birds fly home, greeting the evening as they go, lizards seek refuge on cracks and holes while owls prowl seeking a quick snack. Scent of cooking rent the air and children challenge each other over the hut with the best smell. Sweet vegetable soup adorned with periwinkle, snail, crabs and crawfish sit on dinner tables under the full glare and admiration of children and adults. Cold water from traditional pots or freshly fetched from the spring sit closer to the dishes. Providence knew many ways to appease the hard worker, good food was one of it. The night may have a folktale if the mood was right. Life could be simple and sophisticated still.

After evening came the cold night. Dew return, the path is lost in thick fog. Night was nobody’s friend. Quietly lights go out in the valley. Sleep was next play for children and adult, yet the ancient hills slept before everyone, forever. As the village sleep, creatures of the night walk. But man and day must retire back home, to start the cycle all over again tomorrow.

Categories
Africa culture/tradition education folklore Lessons from Experiences lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry

Love knows no colour

Love knows no pink, no blue, no colour; it knows no creed, no silence, no mumblings, no religion or association. It will learn nothing that brings shame or pain or hurt to others and one’s environment.

Love preys on no one, it knows no greed and no self. Like fresh leaves falling quietly away from the mother tree, love spreads gifts of kindness and compassion wherever it goes.

Love someone genuinely today.

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Categories
Africa haiku Nature Poetry

Haiku: Happy Hawk

Happy hawk surf,
King of blue clouds, wind
While silence look on

Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore Nature Pastoral Series

Diaries of a Village Boy: The Leopard Spirit 9

Papa came back looking exhausted and defeated. He hung a tied piece of wrapper across his left shoulder and chewed slowly on bitter cola. He held a yellow palm frond in his left palm as he walked into our compound.

From my room I watched him march straight to his hut without speaking to anyone. He didn’t even answer Mama’s greeting. Something must be the problem and I was determined to find out sooner or later.

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Three nights ago I overheard Mama and Papa speak about the new priest that was sent by the Mission to our hamlet. Papa had intentions to speak to him to see if he could help liberate me from the spirit. They said the white man was stout with an iconic moustache. He was very tall and wore large eye glasses. Some children and indeed the villagers reasoned he had special powers for he talked back with authority and rude confidence at the Chief. Those who had met him thought he spoke through his nose and that he barely breath when he spoke. My friends who went with their fathers to welcome him said he spoke something like shuprishupri and they pitied their fathers who could only nod and gesticulate when he spoke to them. They swore he was a good actor full of humour. Sometimes some of the children will try to mimic his speaking style, ridicule his manners and then laugh away at their stupid selves.

Papa went to welcome him as the eldest in his clan. He should have taken me as his first son as others did but he felt I was not fully recovered. I thought Papa wouldn’t let us close to missionaries so that we won’t get corrupted by their ways. He had deliberately stopped us from attending church services too. But why would he seek help from those he abhorred? I shrugged. I knew one day I’ll meet the white man, and see if I can use his ways to free myself from this bondage.

***

One dibia suggested taking me to a forest for a week-long deliverance but my father refused saying that he won’t let me out of his sight. Mama has protested even before my father took the decision. I was indifferent, if no one wanted me to possess a Leopard spirit then why not do the needful to break the link?

The dibia had even adviced Papa to leave me this way, on grounds my powers may prove useful some day. I remember Papa shout, “Tufiakwa! Chukwu amamkwe!!

To be continued…

Categories
lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

You’re my Style

I know beautiful words are healing to the soul, but I write not because words are beauty but for your beautiful self. So I want you to sit back and enjoy this rhyme, this African style. Everyone has got a style, loving you by beautiful words is my style.

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Categories
lifestyle Nature Pastoral Uncategorized

Five rules to Success (Video)

Arnold takes us on five basic rules Successful people follow.

VIdeo: Goalcast.

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Categories
culture/tradition education lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Quote: Pride & Humility

Pride is the father of shame
Humility is the father of fame

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition education lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Four Poems: Let’s Take A Walk

I. OUR TRYST

Breezes bring your memory; mild rosy fragrance,
The wind sing with you when you sang of the Nightingale
And now we wait to tryst, craving beautiful sunset

II. HAPPY MEETING

We must make haste, for night is a cold stranger,
For the great Baobab where our love blossomed,
Cold nights steal our warmth but time will keep memories
Of our merry evenings; me, you, beneath a pretty moon shine

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III. LET’S PLAY

Now let’s play hide and seek before the youth arrive for tonight’s tale
Let’s cuddle while we wait for happy girls and grumpy boys,
This night I shall surely bare my mind, I’ll have no timidity
And if my wit tries to escape from me I’ll take hold of it

IV. MY JEWEL

I’ve not come to hear stories nor see anyone but you:
My Jewel, I’m your Lion, the one who loves you in silence
And before this night tales are spent
We’ll live our Romeo and Juliet!

Categories
Nature Pastoral Poetry

Such is Love

Nothing can explain this wild feeling
One hungry embrace,
Heart beats to same rapturous tune
Of man and woman in love,
One with Nature…
And one with the night of fiery frost,
Of glittering stars, or a rising moon,
Such is love by the dark silent lake
The beginning and end of the world

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Categories
Africa Nature Pastoral Poetry

Muse: I Wonder

I wondered, too, what I had ever done to deserve the special love of this very special girl. When I used to think about you before this day happened – it had been as of a rather splendid but inaccessible young goddess of the hills and dales – the incarnation of all beauty, and truth; the spirit of Mother Nature, herself.

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition education folklore Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral

A Kind Story 2

I received this story from a friend and thought I should share with you.

Folake, a primary school teacher, was transferred to a different school and immediately appointed as a class teacher of a class five class.

On her first day in her class, she noticed that a boy named Kola was different from the rest of the pupils because he was always lonely, out of place, dirty and never used to do homework. Folake also realized that most pupils in the class had a negative attitude towards him.

Folake decided to investigate and find out the problem. She decided to review the file containing the records for Kola. She was very surprised by what she found out.

Kola’s class one teacher wrote and said “Kola is a good pupil with a ready laugh. He does his homework neatly and has many friends”.

The class two teacher wrote, Kola is a good pupil with a ready laugh. He does his homework neatly but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle”

The class three teacher wrote, “his mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn’t show much interest”.

The class four teacher wrote, “Kola is withdrawn.He doesn’t do his homework and has very few friends”.

By now teacher Folake had known where the problem was, and she was very ashamed of herself. And from that day onwards she decided to pay much attention on Kola and to assist him as much as possible.

Towards the end of the year, the pupils in the class decided to bring presents to teacher Folake. All the pupils in the class brought expensive presents which were wrapped in coloured paper except Kola. His present was wrapped clumsily in old pieces of newspaper. The rest of the pupils laughed at him when they saw what he brought.

Folake felt great pain as she opened the present that Kola had brought, she found an old bottle of perfume which was a quarter full and an old bracelet which had several beads missing. To stifle the laughter from the pupils, teacher Folake exclaimed “this bracelet is very beautiful” and wore it. She also took the bottle of perfume, tapped it on her wrist and put it on.

In the evening, when the rest of the pupils were going home, Kola deliberately remained behind, and when he was sure that all the pupils had left, he went to see teacher Folake. He entered her office, and summoning enough courage he said to her, “Teacher, today you smelled the way my mum used to”. When Kola left, Folake locked herself in the office and cried for more than an hour.

The following year, Kola wrote a letter to teacher Folake. He told her that she was the best teacher that he ever had in his life.

Six years later, he wrote another letter, he told her that he had finished secondary school and he was the best in his class. He added that “she was still the best teacher he ever had in his life”.

Eight years later, he wrote another letter. He told her that he had completed his bachelor’s degree in medicine was now a doctor. He added that she was still “The best teacher he ever had in his life”.

The following year, he wrote another letter. He told her that he had found a girl and was going to get married. He explained that his father had died one year earlier, and was wondering whether Folake would accept to attend the wedding and sit in the place reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course Folake accepted and during the wedding, she was putting on the same bracelet with several beads missing and she was also putting on the same perfume that Kola remembered his mother was putting on the day she died.

Now l ask a question, have you ever helped someone you don’t like? Can you do good just to help someone get up even when they cannot pay you back when they are not there?

LESSON: Any kindness you do to someone lasts forever! Touch a life in your school, places of worship your immediate environment, community, or anywhere today!

Dedicated to all who have the special opportunity to touch lives.

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Categories
Nature Pastoral Poetry

Finding Joy by Arunav Barua

Between you and me, truth be told, I see
An emptiness that begs to be undone, free
This moment here, the waves battle on in time
To fill the void, weapons are words forming lines
Can I ask for some token of understanding now
Let us fill this empty space, without caring how!

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Rhythm is joy, so it has come to be known here
In this land of emptiness, even so, you’re held dear
The void gives us a chance to connect the heart
All it takes are a few words, to learn a giving art
In this realm, the possible chances loving fate
Is today the same as it was then, or just a date?

Together let’s dream the honeyed dream of love
I hear the chirp, the time nigh for the white dove…

(c) Arunav Barua (I.I.T Guwahati, North Guwahati, Assam)

Categories
Africa culture/tradition education folklore Igbo culture lifestyle Nature Pastoral Series

Diaries of a Village Boy: The Leopard Spirit 8

That morning before the early hunters left their homes for the forest, Papa was already on his way to Ndi-Ikele to welcome the priest, newly arrived from Trinidad and Tobago. It was breezy and cloudy that morning, it seemed it would rain any moment. Trees, especially the palm took to joyful procession when I stepped out to look around. Heavy breeze shook the forest and the skies grew darker. Birds took flight, stray dogs barked. People took in laundry previously spread to dry. The wind blew dust and tree leaves about and I had to retreat back to my room. It was dark inside but I could hear Nene playing with her dog near the kitchen fire while Mama prepared breakfast. Mama knew well enough to get food ready before Papa’s return and while Papa may not bother about himself, he will definitely want to know if his first son has been fed. Men’s queer world, I shrugged.

I took a pen from my school box and started writing on an old wooden seat in my room:

I’m but a soul in a cold tumbler
I catch the wind with my palms, but my life is lived by another

I only wake to live another’s dream…

I was still scribbling and thinking of this strange rhyme when Nene walked into my room without knocking. She quickly scanned my room with her eyes and then delivered her message. I was wanted by Mama. Nene was the inspector in the house and always had something to report to our parents. She was talkative only when she wants something and had a bossy way of getting things done. She was the miniature version of my father.

“My son, your food is ready.” Mama recalled me back from my thought.

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Nene, take his bowl of water to his room.” Mama said to Nene. After a short protest and smirks she finally took the bowl to my room, mumbling and spilling some water on the way.

“Be careful Nene. Don’t spill water on my mats.” I said to her. She took a short look at me and disappeared from the door.

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***

Tinkom tinkom, tibaliba
Dadi nkem o, Dadi nkem o
I we hapu m oo, wee jewe Lagosi
Muna onye ga ebi…

Children sang and played outside our compound. The noise wouldn’t let me reason or rest. Nene and Kiri, our cousin from few compounds away were the leaders. The game was played by softly hitting the palms of your opponents in numerous styles to rhyme with the beat sang by members of the two teams. Both led a team of three followers. The game progressed peacefully for a while, and Nene’s team led in total score. Suddenly she mistakenly put out her left hand instead of the right one and lost a game. Kiri and her teammates shouted and rejoiced over their gain and Nene pained with the mistake bursted out angry.

“It seemed that you’re happy for nothing. I still lead the total score… See your tummy like that of a pregnant frog.” She yelled at Kiri, hands akimbo.

“See this one, she is angry that she lost a game. You’re a loser!” Kiri retorted when she learned her rival was bitter.

“If you don’t close your mouth, I’ll help you deliver that foetus in your tummy.” Nene shouted again. Their team members were enjoying the scenario when Mama walked in from the back.

“Who are those children that won’t let us drink water and rest in this compound. Ssshussh children, run away!” She shouted and clapped her hands. The fighting parties disengaged and ran away from the compound to regroup somewhere else and continue with their game.

To be continued…

Categories
Africa culture/tradition education folklore lifestyle Nature

Boss Vs Leader (Images)

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition Nature Pastoral Poetry

Namaqualand, Beautiful Namibia

I see light fell from the sky
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Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry

Grateful Christian

l feel Your warmth Jehovah
The peace and comfort You gave
Now sunshine through my curtain,
Strings of beautiful colours I see
Oh Jehovah, You’re Awesome
The skies blue cloud stand at ease
You stand out, You’re Handsome!

The love I feel, undescribable
The life I’ve, gracefully blessed
You loved me to love others
My voice, my warrior, my power
My strength, my icon, my Lord
My dream, my Saviour, my master
My Supreme, my Almighty God

For in You I see first beauty
And in all Your creations,
You’re my salvation
My inspiration, I’m Abraham’s seed
And I address You in my African way
For people call me The Lord’s blessed
Ara na azu nwa, Chukwu di ebube

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What if there was no colour in my eyes?
What if I had no feet for shoes?
But You wouldn’t let me suffer,
Your love made me perfect,
None can Your intentions mar
Your ways are mighty and astute

Good lands, valleys and hills
Rivers, skies and people
You cause my eyes to behold;
I’m forever grateful for Your love,
For beautiful flowers and the bee,
For morning dew and suave,
And for new blessed week

Commentary.
Ara na azu nwa: Igbo language for ‘the breast that feeds a child’
Chukwu di ebube: My God is Glorious

Categories
Africa culture/tradition education lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Waterfall

Listen to Nature sing from waterfalls,
She thrash her garments upon rocks
And wash them with her soft palms
She sends soft waters crashing into the pool
Watching the blue skies as her fingers work
When the water descend they form
Fine curtains of white mist
As the water touch the pool below
It changes into bubbling green
Loose soil cling to Water lilies & Fern roots
Slowly falling water push crabs to their burrows
Echoing nature’s still song till evening

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition education lifestyle Nature Pastoral

Animal Planet’s Dave Salmoni New Show

It’s not everyday that you get this close to the fastest land animal on Earth!

Don’t miss a new episode of #AnimalBites with Dave Salmoni, Fridays at 12PM ET.

Visit Africa.

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Life’s pretty hue

I speak without much words
For all I say is but a fraction of my thoughts
I find no perfect word(s)
In there, in my mind where all are soft

So when I sit without my human friends
I watch Nature turn to pretty painting,
As I fed stray ants my soft bread
And consider tree roots kingly thrones

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The birds sing a tune I know
Down hill, on the stream I hear children play
They swim and throw water blows
I smile at the shy Ladybird that won’t stay

When I hear this evening wind roar
I must return home, away from this view,
That I long for, cherish and love,
Life is little without Nature’s pretty hue

Categories
Africa culture/tradition education folklore Lessons from Experiences lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Since I met you

Many times I told myself that love is but a lie
It comes into a life and leaves without a trace
But since I met you, I feel more ambience;
The way you make me do things I do,
The way you smile and cherish life so

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition Lessons from Experiences lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral

Humility Vs Pride

Humility and pride are two brothers that see the world from different perspectives. In this blog post, I’ll compare them to see how they differ.

Humility apologizes first even when he is not wrong but pride is the longest distance between two people.

Pride is concerned with who is right, humility is concerned with what is right.

Pride goes before destruction and haughtiness before a fall. Proverbs 16.18. In James 4.6, God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble.

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Proud people seldom learn, it takes a humble character to be submissive to instructors.

Indeed pride is the mother of arrogance and it could turn angels to demons and humility can change sinners to saints.

Let’s end with this Vietnamese proverb, ‘The higher you climb, the heavier you fall.’

Good morning and have a beautiful day!

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Africa culture/tradition education folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

If I do love you

If I do love you
I would make me a green hut at your gates
Drum and call upon your name
I would of your virtues write long poems
Sing them in the dead of the night
So it sounds among the ancient hills
With Echo, the talkative spirit of the air

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Africa culture/tradition education lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Quotes on Kindness

‘Find out how much God has given you and from it take what you need; the remainder is needed by others.’ St Augustine.

‘If you have much, give of your wealth; if you have little, give of your heart.’ Arabian Proverb.

‘To fold the hands in prayer is well, to open them in charity is better.’ French Proverb.

Plant flowers in other people’s gardens and your life becomes a bouquet. It’s not that successful people are givers; it is that givers are successful people.

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‘Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile.’ Mother Theresa

Categories
lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

I see you here by Arunav Barua

Make your presence felt,
No you, happiness withheld
Complete, with you here…

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(c) Arunav Barua (I.I.T Guwahati, North Guwahati, Assam)

Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Poetry from Skies

There was poetry before we learned to write
Awesome rhythm rendered as a strong wind might
lyrics penned down by clouds, as such
And when singing, green vegetation bows
There was poetry before we learned to hear
Drums that tender soft beats, far but near
Brief gaiety across the heavens
Heard passion when it stills the night
There is poetry down this African hill
Perhaps Hyena’s laughing near the mill
A flying stone sings from its hearty swing
While infants draw lines in Arcadian minds.
Oh poet! Listen to the sky!

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Africa culture/tradition folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Wattle by Robin Bliss

Wattle blossom, Wattle yellow
Makes me feel kinda mellow
With your flowers, brilliant bright
Fills my soul with much delight
Saffron, citron and festive gold
Buttercup and colours bold
And so I loiter on my way
In your presence I would stay
Yes your sweet scent laden breeze
Sets my soul and mind at ease

9/5/15

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Love’s Silhouette

wpid-gb.jpg
We have our silhouette against sun rise,
When we stand, staring in our grey eyes,
Yet the sun may bear witness to this tryst

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Africa culture/tradition education folklore Igbo culture Lessons from Experiences lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

African childhood Memories

I long for my childhood days in rural Africa,
To fill my lungs with morning air descending from hills
And to till farmland that stretch into sunset

Golden sunrise always kept everyone speechless
And when birds welcome the day with choruses
Sweet breezes gather to battle the sun warmth
Infants may resume their wailing culture
And somewhere up, away from the hamlet
Hawks and Eagles surf the blue wild skies
Little birds build their nests on Palm Trees
Filling quiet neighbourhood with joyful cries
Down by the riverside a school of silver fish swim
Scattering when a breadfruit plunge into the stream

After the morning chores
The boys move on to the green field
Sheltered and surrounded by big trees
From the pitch we pick team mates
And set up goal posts with bamboo
Now our football was unripe oranges or grapes
And when the game start our little legs race off,
Up and down the field, while monkeys watch from trees
I gladly remember the taste of Egusi biscuits,
The numerous fruits that grow on trees near home
And tasty Oha vegetable soup prepared by granny
Now the ancient hills and green trees are my brothers
I climb the guava and mango trees with bare hands
And race up those hills upon the evening tide
Waterfalls are my hideout when in mischief,
The streams my pool where I still my soul
The night is full of dreams, full of starry nights,
I retire with other kids to eat my warm soup
Listening as fire lick the wood outside, slowly
Dinner brings the day close to an end but not yet
As a generous story may be told
My favourite being a tale of the Giraffe
And how he ate the sickly moon half

I long for my childhood days in rural Africa still
To watch the sunset behind hills I call home

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Categories
folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

To First Heartbreaks

I loved you even when you won’t feel the same way. I wasn’t your kind of man, you said. So I felt this heart break slowly and finally swallowed the bitter pill. I tried to mask my feelings but my mind laugh at my effort. So I took a break to think things through. But each time I stood by the window, I see you on peoples’ faces. Indifferent faces, unhappily living life. It seemed you connived with my mind and everyone to make me miserable. But I love you still, and will want no pain around you.

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Each night, I fold my pillow, hold it close and imagine I slept in your cuddle once more. But you’re happy with someone else. So I drop this pain and look beyond love you made vain.

Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Sing with me

Sing with me
Let’s talk lyrics only known to poetry,
Dance with me
Let’s swirl upon night’s quiet rhythm.

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Africa culture/tradition Nature Pastoral Poetry

Another Tale of the WildWoods

image

There’s a land behind those hills
Hidden in the forest,
One mighty foliage; of brushes & roots
At all times, Cloud is blue
And King of the Forest
Do fall in love with it
When the Cloud blush
It rains softly; mildly
And little creatures
Which live in the land
Look up to the smiling Forest King
‘Oh, see how handsome his face is’
A little dark Cricket say
‘He is really in love with the Cloud
But we don’t understand
Why she always refuses
To love the Forest King back!’
A group of Pigeons answered
‘I tell you that she is possessed
Who should resist the Forest king?’
The Wolf added, as he looked up
‘The Forest King hadn’t said anything yet
All he does is to stare and smile
How savagely awful!’
Some Pine trees whined
‘If for nothing but admiration
Is the reason to love
I choose not to love’
The philosophical Woodpecker concluded.

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition education folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Seeker

image

I see a golden ray
Giving light from afar
Up the lonely road
Near the cliffs edge
Where leaves fall in circles,
Caring about nothing
As they fall, happily
And the skies not seen
But a streak of sun light
Filing through waving trees
Now and then,
Rodents of tall trees,
Curious about the passerby
Rush through tree branches
Enjoying her damp dark nest
Which envelope the forest,
Playing, hide and seek,
Wondering what passerby’s seek,
Yet the road is quiet
Crafted from a thousand layers
Of fallen leaves piled up
One against another.
Amidst, yellow leaves care not,
If it falls, and lays on a red leaf.
But this is life’s green circle
Life may die to live!

But all through this I seek the way,
Through my land and her forest,
Blessed, yet seeking to see another land

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Africa culture/tradition education lifestyle Nature Pastoral

Back home

Well, the morning bus was fast enough. Now, I’m here again, Ovim my beautiful home!

I noticed new additions to the garden, date palms, groundnuts, turmeric, plantains, cane sugar, grapes, pawpaw, oranges, guava, coconut, sour sops, tomatoes, mangoes, yams, cocoyams and more. My aunt had turned this small garden to a demonstration farm.

My fluffy friend won’t recognize me or come any closer even though I raised him. I learned his companion was prepared for Easter. I pity his lonesomeness.

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I’ll settle to this welcome offering of mangoes while they prepare lunch. These mangoes can sale for a lot of money in town but it’s free here.It’s good to be home but I won’t stay long. Traveling may be restricted in coming days.

Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Another Evening Storm with the Rainmaker

… And there’s another rainstorm brewing over this town tonight. Out in the cold street, light bulbs glow here and there, but meshed in grim embrace of darkness itself. I feel the wind lick the skin on my forearm when I hold the curtain to see the rainstorm. There’s a strange but sweet smell, of caked dust mixing with the rain.

My door is thrown ajar, my curtains sail like a mast on a Pirate ship. I lay on the bed, dreams are not so far off.

A Little More Prodding, Dear Rain…‘ You won’t understand, of course. I’ve a special connection with the rain. Now I hear the host of Heaven, rain gathering from afar. Crashing into the glass windows and throwing my neighbours’ household into frenzy. Rooftops are the rain’s crazy drum and she plays on them softly.

Listen, Dear Rain… Go On, Pound The Earth, Beat Your Drums...’ Aha! A call from an Aunt confirms that it rains Cats and Dogs in Ovim, my hometown and as I said earlier on I’m preparing to travel home tomorrow. Can’t you see? The rain is cleaning up the streets and roads, here and home for my return. Haha, I read meanings too deep but this is me, simple things thrill me. But honestly, I do think that I’m a rain maker.

Good night everyone.

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Africa culture/tradition education folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Quiet Lakeside

Once upon a quiet lakeside,
Where blue clouds stay,
With very thick fog dwell,
And tall Figs hide in them
Like towers,
Over a host of colours,
Painting down the valley
When the sun rays fall
And the forest below
So all may turn to gold.
Clouds are not left behind
They shine in the sun’s glory
Her dew drop upon trees
Away from the waterfalls,
Washing white fine pebbles

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Even as the water rush
And solemn rocks wait
Upon green forests beside it
There’s a rainbow up the sky
With a host of Egrets surfing,
The white mountains stand
Patches of green here and there
As the wind blow sweet breezes
The bears may growl, cats sniff.
But all are beautiful and charming
Around a lonely and quiet lakeside
Where Nature offer a perfect sight

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Africa culture/tradition folklore Lessons from Experiences lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Ever Searching

Ever searching for the wor(l)d…

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Categories
Africa culture/tradition folklore lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry

Muse: Thoughts

Nothing gives me exceptional hope
But thoughts of coming home to you

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Africa culture/tradition education lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral

Persevere & Good Deeds

Never give up. Today is hard, tomorrow may be worse, but the day after tomorrow will be sunshine. Jack Ma

English dictionary defined perseverance as continuing in a course of action without regard to discouragement, opposition or previous failure. It is persistently enduring to the end.

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First lesson to pick today is that we have to persistently sow good seeds of kindness, love and care to others. Good acts attract good reactions, it is a natural law. Good deeds trigger good reactions. Is it not said, what goes around comes around?

It’s a sunny morning, have a beautiful day! 😊💚💙❤

Categories
Africa culture/tradition education folklore Nature Pastoral Poetry

Niger River

image

Have you seen the snake river
That flow through the Savannah?
The sun ray may fall on it,
And her whiteness woo the eyes
Hippos and crocs love it,
River pythons dwell on it
A beckoning waterfall up the rocks
Where Mother Nature sing loudly,
Always as she wash her garments
On the clean waters of the falls
Onitsha feeds on the banks,
Lokoja dwells on the banks,
Forests gain life there too
At the lower plains of Mali
Sweet songs of the canoe man
Whistling heartily, on a quiet day
On thee, life-given river of the East
Falling leaves, descending upon
The glittering waters,
Green seaweeds cluster together
Painting a strange colour on the surface
But thee, Niger river may flow on
And on and always, through nations,
Washing shores of different lands,
Feeding her peoples with life,
Making your land strangely loving
And appreciative of what beauty
You are to mother Africa

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