The Chief

I await the coming of the distant ones,

pale like mmuo with eyes like mmri

my goods sit patiently under the palm trees  while we wait for the messengers I have sent

to find out if those ships have come

the women are black like unyi and their teeth gleam like cowries on the river banks, 

they sit on the found and wail all day, 

longing that their babies suckle their breasts

the men are tall and strong, ogologo my son whispers when he passes them

broken giants, reddened eyes in despair and fear,

they are destroyed like the ill-fated palm fronds trampled by goats even before they sprout,

I await the messages from the distant shores, that bear me good tidings and take from me this cargo of humans to a land unknown