Their hunch-backed, pot-bellied forms slither across the brown grass
The village elders stealthily approaching my father’s yard at his behest
A pack of indolent sly foxes, ready to harvest where they did not sow
Bouncing on feet as if padded with cotton wool and garbed in rubber
Faces set in that primitive egotistical expression that worships the self
They come ready to negotiate my bride-price as though I were a goat.
A hideously sinister assembly which apes the coiled black mamba
Encircling the repulsive calabash of over-fermented illegal alcoholic brew
They intend to pronounce over my life an unmerited lifetime sentence
A cold inhuman instrument of unfairness meted out without compassion
To handcuff me to the most affluent of the village in a matrimonial jail.
And when he appears, all sorts of hellish things lift their heads within me
The chosen one, older even than the elders, his bald head shining like the moon
Sinister in appearance and strange in the ways of men, he commands respect
There descends an ethereal and sudden hush over the dreadful circle of old men
The invisible pedestal upon which this ancient being has been placed is lofty
A throne so high, it reaches and merges with spiritual wickedness above the sky.
The covenant gourd is passed over to the chosen one with traditional flourish
Moon-head flaunts then stuffs disgusting ill-begotten bank notes into the calabash
Kneeling before the monster, my father receives the spoils, grinning like a buffoon
The dreadful deed accomplished, loud invisible chimes resound, sealing my fate
Fragments of my dream to be a lawyer drop like dry petals from my defeated grip.
Read – A Murder of Crows – A Poem by Elias Denen Dodo, Nigeria