There was a certain year
when oyster-shells massaged
founding feet
pacing the old riverbank
...
It was 1985, when we ran into ourselves
To join the busy breakfast queues
Before Mrs.Dike would say it was closed
...
I have had a troubled night
Sweet sleep has let me down
I have wondered about a lot
if you too will leave me torn
...
Tonye Willie-Pepple is an Ijaw from Bonny Island of Rivers State, Nigeria, he studied Computer Engineering from the Federal University of Technology Owerri, His poems have appeared in Sentinel, Poetry Foundation Ghana and Kalahari Review, He writes poetry, Drama and Short Stories, In 2012 he was short-listed for the Orange Crush Prize for Poetry and in 2013 he won the PEN Nigeria/Saraba Prize for Poetry, He lives in Port-Harcourt, Nigeria where he co-ordinates the Local chapter of The Society of Young Nigerian Writers.)
The Old Riverbank
There was a certain year
when oyster-shells massaged
founding feet
pacing the old riverbank
In that year, as well,
peppered oyster meat
filled hungry flesh-graves,
nurturing their darkened skins
That was the year
of sand-papered hands
paddling with experienced sticks
Their gloves, salty splash of clapping waves
All those were in that year
when the loosened George
and snow-colored bed-cloth
produced fishing boys and trading girls
The years before the first ships arrived
beat our mother,
raped her hard,
and raised the flaring flag
This red flag
that came from hell
replaced the oyster-pot with us,
cooking us deep, deep, to the bones
And so, on the old riverbank,
no more tales are told
of men who once ate oyster-meat,
who fished and bought and sold
But let the ships know today,
that when our gods paddled away
it was not because of their small canoes
but because they went to get their weights
Tomorrow, when they shall arrive the courts,
drunk from our advocates of tears and gin,
that ship shall either sail or sink in the sea
By the old riverbank.