Babalola Augustine Adeola
The Story Of My Land - Poem by Babalola Augustine Adeola
The approaching basket,
The pregnant bags
The heavy and light foot.
Ero oja, i greet you.
The market stall,
The brooms and the dusters salute you.
OLOJA! Your black and red robes,
We see them.
The OKETE that now carrys gun
Against the farmer.
Ah! ERO OKO
The people of the farm,
Safety has even fled you.
As you marry karnel to cocoa
And stones with karnel.
Tell me, why will OKETE not hunt you.
Story of our land.
Wasted! Cheated! Forsaken! Exploited
Shout it, scream it, chant it.
My father, our father
They inherited the cocoa plantation
Havested it but never planted.
Our economic tree now heat our pots.
The resident of the present.
Being robbed is an understatement
And our survival hinged on empty barns
Let us now pick our hoes
And wedge our scale with honesty
And chase desertion away from our market.
That life might return to the market for ERO OLA
Ero oja olowo...... jalolo jalolo
Ero Oja Olomo oo... jalolo jalolo
Ki la ti se oja yi si o
Ema je k'oja yii o tu mo wa lori o.
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