You estrange us

force these toils as our choice

Special, you made us

Unfit to be among the royals

The pain of isolation, sweeter tale on our sour lips

even before the pandemic ordered the nation

Only where your money fails is where we’re one

If possible, you’d make this breath your award

Available to wealthy merchants who’d buy your commodity

Or bestow the ones who dine with you

in the coffins that accommodate you

Since you name us nonentities

Yes, your appearance gladdens us

at every quadrennial when you need us

To chant in our ears your love story

Creep into our holes

Woo us into woes

sow hope in the future you’ll stop us to reach

Only then do your “agbadas” eat the dust of our dear village

Where you never return

Time to redeem your pledge

will always have things go wrong

Though our request is just to live

Our pitchers filled with water not tears

Our seeds with knowledge, not fears

We’ve stretched our necks

Now it aches

This experience reminds us

So did your fathers

Forlorn hope from honest devils


We’re bereft of goodies not faith

That, your convoy couldn’t take

We gaze

Our doors kept ajar

When the lost prince wears his crown

We’ll be out to rejoice again

Not because our fingers are needed for selfish gain

Not as strangers you’ve so made

We’ll live like this is our place


“Agbada” is one of the names for a flowing wide-sleeved robe worn mostly by men in much of West Africa, and to a lesser extent in North Africa.

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7 Responses

  1. This is truly amazing!
    “Only where your money fail is where we’re one…”
    A big thanks to the author,; Siyanbola Olumide.

    I salute your pen

  2. at every quadrennial when you need us

    To chant in our ears your love story….

    This is truly inspiration. #wordsmith.

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