Yesterday, I thought I would wake up today hungry. I guess I was like that myopic fella at back of the village hall.
Who says we can’t drink again, who says we can sing again.
The mothers from the East swore on the mountain tops to the gods- “the gods are dead, the land is cursed!”
Udeme my cousin from the Western land said the same!
He forecasted our weather, wrote it down with feather and ink. But as it turned out this morning, his writings were feather weight; they didn’t last to the morning, the wind blew them away.
The southern sage spoke the same lines of words of prophesy;
“For two moons and half, the sun shall shed molten tears, and chimera shall be the lord of all”
He spoke with agitation and wriggled as he spurred out lyrical foretelling.
We are passed that season now and the sun is yet to shed tears molten or chimera become the lord of the any.
I stand in today writing from tomorrow; that’s how long sighted I am.
We are today with empty stomachs and backs dry and thirsty from heat; it does not mean we are doomed forever in this Sahara.
I see positivity, I see hope, I see growth and advancement.
So go tell it on the mountains, the same mountains wearied mothers swore on.
Go to the mountains in the four regions, tell the pirates their ship has holes where they cannot block again and that they will drown this night.
Tell them we see the other side of the ocean and it was never meant for them.
Tell the sage his sights were too blurry he should have kept quiet and wait till the morning comes. But he has spoken, and spoken vain, may he never speak again.
Udeme, you were wrong! Just because you leave on the high land does not mean you see it all. There is a vantage your high minded sight can not see.
Yes; Our farms are today browny and dry-
We shall wake up tomorrow to pluck green and plush lemons.