Ayo Ayo Ayo Poem by Moses Kainwo

Ayo ayo ayo ayo ayo!
Eeeeeeey!
Ayo ayo ayo!
Eeeeeeey!
Ayo ayo!
Eeeeeeey!

The Great Muse has spoken,
So listen to the echo of his voice:
Listen now, and listen well!

Hear me
You Matagelema,
Let us meet at Rogbane;
The agenda is Sierra Loya!

Follow the line west of 1961,
And you will find me;
Follow the line east of 1961,
And you will still find me.

The nation is ripe
For jubilee celebrations,
With democracy
In over-abundance.

Love, joy and peace are faked,
When there is famine
In the land—my land!
And there is famine in the land,
Until you are David to your Jonathan,
Or Muhammad to your Book.

Hear me again
You over-prescribers of prosperity,
You under-prescribers of prosperity;
Hear me and hear me well!
I gave you an anthem
And I gave you a flag—my flag,
After I set you loose?
This is a well-earned jubilee for all who wink.

Did you see when the flower flowered
In the morning?
Its petals opened slowly to greet the sun,
And those who planted it
Saw the fruit long before it appeared.

The fruit appeared as fruit
Even for those who choked the flower,
With thorns from the onset.

This democracy has ripened for harvest;
This is why country boys have graduated into city boys,
And the age-old bush
Has overgrown its boundary
And become a jargon on the lips of democrats:
So be it, so the Devil—that Old Boy,
May bow his head!

Now you can see a democrat
When a soldier hails the ballot,
Even though they have the bullets:
Or when the people fill their tummies
From adopted staple foods,
From the horizon—in defiance of pop food.


Can’t you see
That people stopped drinking spittle,
Because they now saw
That they lived on the banks of great waters,
Which drowned them sometimes.

Can’t you see
That the people now connect to power,
Since they own the power house?

Can’t you see
That the long pregnancy of war
Delivered a new nation,
From the forest of thorns and wild beasts
That beat their chest,
For the gift of transformation?

Can’t you see
That the youths now hold the gravel
For things that affect others and themselves?

Can’t you see
That the tree of jubilee
Has a wide enough canopy to accommodate
Both birds of peace
And birds of prey?
But at the end of it all,
It is the former
That shall sink the boat carrying the latter!

Can’t you see
That flowers of jubilee
Have opened
And are shooting towards the stars?

The clouds in the horizon
Shall only pour their shower of blessings
For the tenets of democracy to thrive:
Whether in a desert or on fertile ground
And the showers shall bring forth
Petals of rainbow colours:
Of religious tolerance,
Of nationalism,
Of integration,
Of correct use of power,
Of gender parity,
Of lesser suffering…
And those who dropp down from Mount Ararat,
Being so much on the increase,
Shall kill the virus of greed—
In money, healing and judgment houses.
And conjure maximum security,
In police and soldier ranks,
That Satan, that Old Boy, may bow.

And the Lungi bridge shall become reality,
and the Athens of West Africa,
shall wake up from sleep,
With no new references from the elite;
And deliver gains
From the shower of deliverance,
And Satan, the Old Boy will bow!

Can’t you see
You have a right to say
What can help deliver this rain?
So say it, and let the Old Boy bow!

Say it! Say it!
And cast a prayer—in the year of jubilee:
No more bumpy roads. Amen!
No more boloh-boloh in attieke. Amen!
No more peppeh-doctors. Amen!
No more mercenary teachers. Amen!
No more daka deke in business. Amen!
No more kangaroo courts in the workplace. Amen!
No more kukujumuku among the poor. Amen!

So children may uncover their rights,
To help their parents know their rights.
And wives may stay from all-night prayers if husbands slam a ban;
And dogs and roosters may stay in bush,
And bears and deer may stay in town.
So say it, in this year of jubilee!

Ayo!
Eeeeeeey!