Thursday, July 06, 2006


Like a brute set free
But with a countenance contrite and pleading
As calm as the dimples on a infants cheek
It makes an esteemed outing
Silently gliding down the line
Greenness glittering with the radiance
Of the hot noonday sun
It came still demanding welcome
Nibbling at the seams of our fragile hearts
Attempting to tear open its sacs of emotions
Evoking fear and stirring adherents
Into a nasty awakening
What’s the message this time?
Ignoring our brewing tears and questions

Aka! Harbinger of a mores of deities
Heirloom of Mmam
Still sleek and lithe, innocent
Moves- sliding beneath curtains
Peeping into the keyholes of our awe struck minds
Its messages lashes out
Reaffirming norms, shredding evil stereotypes
And leaves in its wake uneaten sacrifices

Its raises its tiny head
As if in search of a dissenter
Demanding obeisance and reverence
From spittle dripping, gourd -bellied children
And arthritic old coots
Everyone stood, transfixed
Trying to decipher the mystique
In its glistening cold eyes
And the slow peristaltic movement
Of its slender throat
As it swallows Grandma’s yam balls

Starting with a rhythmic pulsation
Its forked tongue flicks in farewell
In symphony with
The frantic beats of our own hearts
As it went the way it came
Down the paths of the spirits
Leaving us to ponder
The message in Akammam’s cue


Port Harcourt,

May, 2004.


Hells breaking loose
Tensions rising, not sparing the goose
Mouths agape, feeble feet running
Children crying, nose runny, pickpockets cunning

State of Head corpulent, fingers manicured
Cozy bedroom, insanity yet uncured
Lights, acrid sweat, camera, hustling people
Yet another bout of “fellow country people”

Men upon podium, hands in thump
These generations of leaders we must dump
Rollicking in the midst of our penury
At the faintest snicker dragging us to their jury

Stare pallid, “put off that set “, roared he
These urchins are getting on my nerves – see
Crawling under my skin with irritating palaver
Scream! Get that idiot before I get “madder”

Lets do this for the good of us you know
Rescind or never will I kow tow
Attack with words inveigh, offers spurn
This country will I lead, strikes will I churn

Words still
Bring him some tea to ease the strain
Maybe that will do, just in from the rain
Finnish coffee? Get me some sugar
Now lets dialogue- “said my terms vulgar?”

More words
A scratch to the head, a scrotum tug
Lets have the envelope he said with a shrug
Greasy fingers, meaty sweaty palms
For me, huh? I have no qualms

Labour leader out, smile factious
People sold for a gulp by the unctuous
Insensate politician, façade of concern
Masses effusive, unable to discern

© Endi
June, 2004.

A Boy and an Akara Ball


The rhythm of his heart stops
Eyes darting in Cartesian fashion
Settles on man clad in black before him
The cool evening breeze
Makes him sweat and carries with it
An avalanche of smells, some of-
The pool of amber urine at his feet
And the inviting boli and akara balls
His stomach growls with fury
Reminding him of his mission; inviting
Wrapping and eating him up
Eyeball darts again; left-right-right-left
Like ball drama in a ping pong game
Tongue in mouth, saliva gone
Farting fat lady shoves him out of the way
And cursing chewing stick hawker into it
Both invoke memories of his father
And sometimes Mama too
Flurries of thoughts swell the space
Inside his head as anger builds
Choking him and setting the tear free
The hate, the cynicism, the knocks, his fate
His stomach churns the pain increasing
The hunger makes his head swool
Pushes him across the muddy road
A chasm between life and death
Leg in gutter, he made for the balls
Reality hits; cacophony of shouts
Woman wielding stiletto; men in black
Market women all in chase
The voice in his ears sings
“Eat before you die”
He bit off a chunk and ate
Hit by a bullion van, driver fleeing
He died food still in throat
Hands, some akimbo, some wiping tears
Glared at the spasmic body
Of a lonely and homeless boy
None could tell the tale of him
The tale of a boy we knew
© Endi
Port Harcourt,
Dec. 2005

On feet unsure we wobbled
To the shrine making progress steady
Familiar insects sighed; bored
At the sounds of our hearts palpitation
Our thoughts reveled in skullduggery
Pervading in our senses skull and crossbones
Living ancestors turn away in disgust
And spit on our would be graves
As we sought a ritual we know
Was prompted by the sound
Of the gong of scheming juju priests
Beating for the third; three times
Told will bring reproach untold
We hurried away, plucking the leaves
As we went, desecrating covens
Daring minions speak, our talc speaking
No one came this way, just we
The storm brewed, chilly wind blew
Baba urged us on, the course he knew
We ignored the sounds of our silence
Their silence too; hearing only
Those of our footfalls in the dark
Thud! Thud! in the dark uncertain night
On a mission the oracles cursed

© Endi
Port Harcourt,Nigeria