Song of a Rising Sun,2 -
Kindred spirits guides the sun rise
From the eastern heartland of
Where my forefathers worshipped their creator
Through the *Ikenga* firm and feared,
Kolanut rituals performed at sunrise and sunset
Give honour to the being divine and wise.
The drums of my ancestors were vocal,
The dance steps, a strength,
The rhythm was a communion with their creator,
And they sing in unison, in praise of the powers above.
Men that wore khaki shorts came,
Smoking Long pipes, they became gods
To our forebearers,
Their magic broke the rhythm and things went
Wrong with our heads,
The elders of the land became blank and the weak
Became warriors of the new beginning,
Our neighbours got a different kind of message
And their women became masquerades while
Their men turned to bareback riders.
It was a blend of all that was meant to be good,
Our fathers embraced all, gained all, and lost all,
They say one man one woman as the west taught the rest
But in the land of the rising sun, it becomes song of the dumb.
If you say I do with the likes of *Adaeze* in a tilted union,
*Ije di na nwunye* will become a lament of a life time;
An endless marital song of sorrow.
People die of heart attack because they can’t say I don’t,
The church has ruled for better, for worse,
But for *azu anu-uka*, when life is threatened,
The rule becomes opium meant for the practicing faithful.
Our ancestors did and did and did, instead of I don’t,
They did again, lived peacefully, danced gracefully
And observed thousands of sunsets.
Eye followed false echoes of *Ada mammiwata* and
Became a traveler in wedlock of padlocks;
I, the bloodline of Rainmakers,
They say I should not say I don’t, but I said so,
My forebearers would have performed a simple ritual of
Appeasement to set the son free but,
The court and the church revel in the soap of the pigeons;
They live to watch another episode. But eye said I don’t.
A rising sun sings with a lone voice, the echoes reaches the
Land of the Popes,
A man of psychiatry and culture heard and want to hear again,
But I sing and dance the spirit within,
I sing about the powers abused, of greedy leaders and waifs,
Of First-ladies and abused children, I sing about highlife and
I sing about sun rise and ablutions, about sun sets and long shadows,
Lamentations of the rising sun,
My song will end when the course is circled.