Nigeria, in Cadence
morgan omotayo@omotayomorgan
6 months ago
For the dawn that breaks on the Lagos lagoon,
A city hums a steel-and-glass tune,
But underneath the freeway’s steady groan,
Lies the older rhythm, the bedrock tone.
It’s the crackle of akara in the morning pan,
The call of “Oyinbo!” from the market man.
The thump-thump of yam in a giant mortar’s mouth,
Pounding out a heartbeat from the south.
It’s the whisper of the harmattan, dry and wise,
Dusting gold on everything that lies
Beneath the roar of Abuja’s destined hour,
And the drip of rain on a frangipani flower.
It’s the wail of a sax from a smoky club,
Mixing highlife with a hip-hop hub.
The clash of talking drums across the square,
Spinning stories into the heavy air.
It’s the rush and hush where the Niger meets the sea,
A thousand voices whispering, “We are free,
Not a single note, but a symphony
A fierce and joyful noise of what will be.”
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5 months ago
