Once a masquerade drummer he was;
Beating the alluring sound of the spirits.
Best at it he was in his clime
the wonderful riverine clime
where sounds and ancestral songs
enchanted the spirits and provoked
the souls of the living.
He was termed fetish
when the Church came with
And despised he was
when his people embraced the new Religion.
He decided to follow the way of his people
And got converted to Christ .
He took the drummer seat in
the mission house and drummed
in a grand style and the Bishop
termed him ‘‘Holy’’.
He beat the drum so hard
in a peculiar way.
In an ecstatic mood
the ‘‘holy drummer’’ beats.
But wait ! The beats were
that of the spirits.
And the congregation danced to
the tremolo of the beat.
Shaking and uttering inchoate words
the Priest in trance prophesies
of the future.
Happy was the drummer with
And the dancers caring less of the beat
winding their waists to the
emanating sound of the mission drum.
But lo! The beat was the beat of the spirits
played by the drummer of all time.
My Tabowei brothers are at bit again this week. I present to you two poems to reflect on for the holidays. Cheers!!!
Author can reached on 08130167916.