"SARO WIWA’S WAITING WAR…" A POEM WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY EMMANUEL U. OKOH AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 3 EPISODE 10 "FREE"

SARO WIWA’S WAITING WAR…

My keen cry to Kenule: I, Fubara, of disjointed

Fishnet and gaping boat, from the land of kernel

Back feeling and staggering heritage.

Of gasping fish and de-flowered flowers,

Of frowning waters and stunted stalks.

I sit on a lonely log; One of the few remaining.

I write on a Dutchman’s Dollar paper.

It left the Howling Helicopter.

Black crude: my ink, my thin thighs: my table.

It’s a stolen converse Kenule, so, listen.

I know you still hear truth.

Your ink bullets still hover in mid-mission,

Taking stolen rests on shrunken leaves and

Greased waters. The cruel antics of the goggled

General regenerates in bloody resonance,

Feeding the rusty rulers of our land.

We await the revolution of fish and oysters

From long years of petrol-logged breath

And bone splinters from Shell’s shell. 

Let the cry of prawns and Lobsters

Aid my call to you Kenule, while my throat

Is lubricated by this crude I drink.

Bright glow from Dutch giant metal

Candles steal our nights, blasting insects that dare

Hover. Caked soot sit on my nasal paths.

I breathe with my ears; ears saturated with news of

Inverted justice, of blood soaked loots I loathe.

Hear these words Kenule. And berth those

Ink bullets of fourth estate fame and stencil

Romance. That short romance of eternal frenzy

And gothic engravings of your letters that die

Not from ‘feeble’ minds of Generals nor fumes

From the Dutch industrial farts.

EMMANUEL UWERU OKOH