(A Lament in the Tongue of Empire)

Chorus (whispered, rising):
Resign now, Traoré…
You’ve done too much good.

⸻

VOICE OF THE WEST:
Resign now, Traoré!
You’ve upset the order!
You’ve stirred the soup without our spoon!

You—
child of Sankara,
nephew of Nkrumah,
heir of the drum that dares to beat against silence!

We sent aid in envelopes
lined with fine print and trap doors—
you returned it with a grin
and built a dam with your bare hands!

What insolence!

Resign now!
You turned your face from France—
our dear République, our mistress in gold braid—
and you slapped her wrist
with a map of self-respect!

You jailed our partners—
those sweet men in ties
who smiled while signing over their mines
for croissants and air-conditioned conferences.

You kicked out our troops—
we came to help, remember?
We brought democracy in drones
and tied your sovereignty with shoelaces we patented!

Yet here you are,
growing your own grain,
trading gold with Mali,
smiling like sovereignty
isn’t a crime.

⸻

Chorus (mocking):
He doesn’t beg.
He doesn’t bow.
He doesn’t borrow.

⸻

Our intelligence chiefs—
the ones who whispered over scotch
in leather chairs in Abuja, Paris, DC—
they can’t keep up with you!

You walk like a proverb.
You speak like a storm.
You quote Sankara without stuttering.

We tried to call you dictator.
But your people danced in the streets.
We said coup plotter—
But schoolchildren painted your face on classroom walls.

You ruined our narrative!

Resign now, Traoré!

Before Niger finds its fangs again.
Before Ghana shakes off the dust.
Before Congo stares at her stolen mirror
and remembers she once wore diamonds in her smile.

Resign now—

Before Black youth everywhere
begin to think like you.
Before they delete Netflix
and download Lumumba.

Before they log off TikTok
and log into truth.

Before they realize
that the world they inherited
was a rigged roulette—
and the house never plays fair.

⸻

Chorus (mocking, rising):
Resign now, Traoré.
You’re making revolution trend.
You’re making freedom contagious.

⸻

We tried hashtags.
We tried paid protests.
We tried sanctions sweetened with lies.
But you blocked our boots with barefoot courage.

You ruined the hustle!

Resign now, Traoré,
Before Africa wakes up
And finds its heartbeat
In your marching steps.

Resign,
So we can go back
To stealing slowly,
To looting politely,
To laughing in boardrooms
While you cry at borders.

Resign now,
So our IMF loans
can grow your poverty again.

⸻

Final Chorus (sarcastic, thunderous):
Resign, Traoré—
You’re making Blackness bold.
You’re making empire old.
You’re making courage spread like wildfire
And we…
we are out of water.

⸻

Mic drop.