May they who have answers
to my prayers open their ears.
As l sit under this baobab tree
in the middle of the village square;
with arms and limbs worn off by hunger and want;
yet do not have a grain to swallow.
My empty intestines continue to crack
with the harmattan winds of hunger through
my mouth with nowhere to turn to;
At the backs of my mind,
I see myself well dressed up and laid
in state with millions of mourners waiting to be fed
at my wake;
I want to ask my clansmen,
Should we be living and dying
in this manner?