"Iri Ji" - New Yam Festival Poem by Raimi Babatunde

Despite the breeze of trials blown
Chaos, epidemics and insurrections
The gods have been good to us
The harvest has been bountiful
Sprouting in a land spilled with blood

Aren't we to give thanks in all things?
When we thank the gods for their fingers
Surely they will give us their hands
We prayed and made sacrifices
To the gods of harvest and they answered

It is our new yam Festival
Whether you call it Iwa ji
Iri ji, ike ji or otute, "All na name"
We are rounding up this harvest bountifully
The end of a new beginning it is

Just like our yams, our lives will sprout
In the midst of challenges, the roots will rise
First it dies, then it rises high and high
Bury your hurts like our new yam and sprout
And your life will witness abundance

We are agog in the euphoria this "Emume" brings
Our culture, our pride, our heritage
What defines a people are your cultures
Your values and beliefs that makes you distinct
Let's tell and export this culture to the world

We'll make pounded yam as tall as a mountain
We will descend and devour it like the real "Nwadi ala"
Unveiling the faces of our kinsmen at the other side
Only then are we permitted to exchange pleasantries
This is a major feature of our "New yam festival"

Wait! Before I get lost in these festivities
I can see some "Onye Keri ishi" twerking
They are the real definition of beauty
While some young men are busy with fresh palmwine
I see some twerking leading to"Igba Nkwu"

Climaxing with the "Afia ji oku"
Laced with songs, choreographies and spectacles
What a way to create a new beginning in all spheres
If I refused to partake of the yam you offered
Now you know why, "Abu'm ezigbo Nwadi Ala"
Now, you can proceed with the eating..