ENYUMU-AMA

ENYUMU-AMA

My soul quakes and cringe at the voices of my neighbors
As I weep for the fate befallen my soul
‘Why does she weep’ they whisper among themselves
How can I tell, and who will believe my tales of lost glory
That I “ENYUMUAMA,” the pride of the generation of the brave
Now hides in moss and ruin in forlorn desolation

How would you know that in time beyond times
That I was a bustling center of the braves and commerce
The cradle of the new faith; tourist center to the Archdeacons
I was inhabited by the brave of the land beyond the realm
I was host and pride, to the princes and princesses of the land
They know neither hunger nor thirst; that dwell in me

I can still hear the laughter of the children deep in my soul
As they played and ran around my lusty flowery lanes
I can still hear the moonlight tales told by the aged in my square
The dances and annual celebrations still echo in my soul
The young men and women bursting with life and hope
Working in harmony, the men doth toil in enthusiasm

Why will I not weep in my soul for my sons and daughters;
Whose destinies so cruelly thrust away by strange forces
They have lost their identity into time and space
And have become destitute and wanderers in strange lands
My name is being gruesomely hacked into near extinction
Now being mentioned only in the anal of history

Where are the young men and women who once graced my
Thoroughfare with hope, pride and dignified majesty
Like the cotton tree that sheds it leaves in the Harmattan
I had unwittingly shed them away into time and eternity
And as barren tree, I stand, decaying with the years
My story is fading away with the fading of men’s memory

My young men and women have dispersed in hopeless hope
Into the neighborhood for shelter and sustenance
My name is now been called by a generation that does not know me
They only heard about me in their desolate refugee homes
They are searching for a hero like the one they have heard before
That redeemed me from captivity; to raise me again

But for now, I have weeping for companion; an old ruin
That is whom I am; cringing at the sound of my neighbors
Shriveling in moss with decaying walls of ruin
I cannot even muster the strength to howl my name
But in this digital super highway, I could howl ‘ENYUMUAMA’
Can anyone hear my name called out faintly?

Wherever you are; whomsoever, you are:
And whichever your generation is
Listen to the sound of my name on the air
With my fleeting breath, I have howled
If you hear, do not hesitate, gather your kins
I am old but with you, I will rise again.