Kris Atta Pappoe

Rookie (Akuse, Ghana)

Addis Ababa Farewell - Poem by Kris Atta Pappoe

14. ADDIS ABABA FAREWELL

(For Kwesi Pratt and Tai Solarin)


It was like Resurrection morning,
But it was not morn, but deep in the abyss of might
And the earth was vomiting out
Secrets it had never before
Chosen to expose to mundane eye or ears
They came from all depths and sources.
As the Earth oped its jaws and,
In one big vomit threw them out,
Onto shores long-forgotten by their souls.
The air was filled with their groans
strident voices
And the bedlam of myriad strange anthems,
Filled the air.
They had returned;
Those who gave birth to the Land had returned.
And had come to seek judgment.

Everywhere the susurrus of voices greeted them,
As the ghoulish phalanx moved inexorable
To its genesis.
Then they thronged Addis’ broad ways
And steeped boulevards and its narrow streets.
And everywhere, the breath of the vengeful-departed
Breathed on the midnight air.
No longer were they the paternals
Whom we had betrayed
With false assurance and then crucified.

They had returned,
With a vengeance
Sorry at our apostasy
And seeking answers to what should have been.

Their voices shook the Great Hall of Nations
Which in their heroic dreams they had edified,
To keep the hearts of their people together,
And their cause singular.
They ‘hilamoyaed” until Africa’s roots shook
And Terror captured the once tranquil night.

Hila moya! Hi la mo ya!

Then they look centre stage
The Living Dead
Seeking answers to the enigma of their land.
They harangued the ghostly audience
Who cheered them with skeletal cheers
And hellish adulations.
They called up the Traitor Breed
To come answer their charges.
Where are our people? They howled.
Where are our lan s? They wept out.
Where have they buried our placental dreams?
So sweet at their genesis
And so pregnant with the hopes of our people?
Where are our projects For salvation?
And the wealth of our land?
They howled in painful recollection
At the loss of all that they in their time,
Had pinned their hopes on.
For the liberation and good of their people.
And then the anger arose anew
“What have you done with our people? ”
The chorus arose
Dafur
Rwanda
Liberia
Sierra Leone
What have you done with our people?
And invisible tears from ghostly cheeks,
Drenched many a podium that night.
The living Dead wept
And the ghostly warriors of time past,
When the cry for Liberation arose,
Wept with them.

Then with one savage howl that stifled
The dreams of the traitors,
The ghostly throng trooped out again,
And spilled into the broadways of Addis,
Their lamentations rang throughout the night

But then Dawn opened its gates
And the faint rays of Aurora
Crept stealthily to eliminate the dark.
Then Earth convulsed
And time stood still in one pulseless moment,
They waved at the Land that had been desecrated
By their Apostate offspring.
They waved in farewell,
As Earth oped, and the sea yawned.
And took them back to destinies,
Unknown.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 7, 2009



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