Writings / Poetry: Wale Adebanwi

IV

But come, Z, leave the past to pass
Come! Dance to the tonalities of Mogadishu Manifesto
composed to the tune of freedom,
of a liberated people bonding beyond the bondage of history.

Dance! Frolic too to the melody of minds.
Throw your salsa at the tango of bodies.

Boggie! Boggie down to the tension of muscles
You, who tears up to the jingle of jazz.
In your synchronic palpitation to the
melodic cadences of bodies,
confess Richard Francis Burton’s summation on your people,
a nation of bards.
Or didn’t the British explorer say that yours are a people
who savor harmonious sounds and poetic expressions?
Take his poetry, give sound to it!

You have risen, risen beyond the felonious collage of crazed rulers;
You have mixed the Ox with the Bridge in the imperial enclaves;
You have floated, floated above the torrid lessons of spilled bloods,
the blood-stained heritage of pirates
of the treacherous oceans,
and their armored fleets.

Your ancients are right still:
“Sorrow is like rice in the store;
if a basketful is removed everyday,
it will come to an end at last.”

Dance, dance still.
Hop to the pentatonic songs of your culture;
Seize the fifth pitch of the octave
And twist your waist to your batar drum,
Or let him teach you the rhythm of his own bata drum.

Dance, dance still
Hold your hand to the Eastern,
raise your elbow to the West.
In the patchwork of rhymes
you shall find the tonalities waiting,
waiting to chant to your splendor.

Waiting, waiting in your dreamland eyes
waiting, waiting in your supple mind
waiting, waiting wrapped around your inflamed flesh
waiting still.
Like a lady,
Mogadishu waits for the dawn
of a new order, not of bullets
but of ballots,
waiting for a voice, for votes,
waiting for slogans at campaign rallies,
rallies of citizens, for citizens and by citizens
Where the fundamentals are about liberties, not faiths,
Garoowe waits too, like the
rest of the Indian ocean, like you,
waiting to dance
still waiting….

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