Moonlit Nights (Village Songs) Poem by John Agandin

When the harvest is all done and dusted
And the fields lie empty and desolate
When the groundnuts are all plucked
The Bambara beans dug up roots and all
When all the sorghum in the field is felled
And only sharp prickly remnants remain
When tethering the goats is now ended
And the boys gain such a relief
As to sigh with gratitude bordering on piety.

When the shepherds no more chase the sheep
The cowherds no longer shout at errant bulls
And the moon is happy enough
To make the cripple hungry for a walk,
Do we nightly gather before the house;
Mothers, fathers, uncles, and aunts,
Teens, children, toddlers and babies
Brothers, sisters, nephews, and nieces
With cousins, bastards and orphans too.

There we tell many a tale and laugh
Loud, long, shrill or deep throaty laughs
That rouse the sleeping chickens and ducks.
We would sing our very hearts out:
Songs of loving and wooing
At which we smile and sigh and wink
Songs of winning and losing
That teach many a life lesson clear
Songs of living, fiddling and dying
At which we may grow morose and pensive
Songs of war, daring and conquest
As we dance ourselves lame and dusty.

We play on the sitting logs with stones
Or on the upturned calabashes
Or strike the cans with sticks.
And if the house has any drum set
And horns or flutes to match
Then it is a communal affair
The dancing would raise a cloud to heaven
And the singing would wake a drunken god
Until we see the jealous moon
Hurrying to her bed
And the insomnious rooster flapping his wings
To announce the approach of dawn
Only then do we break up the revelry
And departing in groups or pairs
Make for our weary mats
Hungry and satisfied both at once.