I was full of youth,
Not yet abused.
The road ahead was distant.
Walking to school on bare foot,
Not sure of a meal afterward.
Early in the morning,
The harbingers of the dawn whistle into my ears
And I woke up suddenly with inflated eyeballs.
Riding on my father’s 1947 ikeke
With a machete in my hands
Straight to the African jungle
To help mama uproot cassava
For the morning and evening meals.
Sometimes the ikeke was borrowed
From neighbors who disappointed at will.
I was not as strong as Hercules
Yet, circumstances bequeathed energy in me.
I had to toil on the barren soil
To help mama put food on our wooden table.
In the moment of despair,
I cried.
In the rains,
I cried.
When it was sunshine,
I cried.
All day long
My eyes were swollen.
Often times, hardship pressured me
To wet my iron bed.
What is worse?
POVERTY!
You are cursed!
By: Napoleon Saigbovo