The elders tell of a talking drum, Beaten by hands, yet leading the dance. They say, “The man is the drummer of the home, His hands must shape the rhythm of life.” But oh, the calabash whispers another tale, For when the river runs wild and deep, The drum is handed to him—“Decide, O man, you lead!” Yet when…
By Ebhohon Majekodunmi Oseriemen Who plants a tree in chains and expects it to bear fruit? Who builds a house when the land is owned by another’s hand? How can a nation rise when its leaders kneel to foreign lords? What use is vision when the road is blocked at every turn? Who teaches the child if the school…
He said, “Achalugo, I am going to marry you.” The words dripped like honey, thick and golden, Luring you deeper into a dream not your own. The car purred, sleek as a panther, The perfume of leather and lies curling in your lungs. He fed you meals too wealthy to question, Poured wine that swallowed your doubts, Draped you…
“You will understand when you grow older,” They said, with voices carved from harmattan winds, With eyes that had seen a thousand yesterdays, Yet I laughed—oh, how I laughed! For what could time teach me, That my sharp tongue did not already know? But time is a silent sculptor, Carving truth into the bones of the stubborn. A child…
By Ebhohon Majekodunmi Oseriemen We are disruptors, storm-bringers, fire-starters. Not made for silence, not built for chains. Revolution does not walk with the elders, whose feet drag in the dust of caution. It lives in the fists of the young, in the fire of those who dare. Speak to them! Not in whispers, not in tired tongues of fear—…
By Ebhohon Majekodunmi Oseriemen ‘Dewole, listen well!For the man who carries an ant-infested logmust not cry when the ants begin to bite.The one who steps into the rivermust not shiver and wail of the cold. Did Ori not warn you?Did Ori not say, “That path is slippery, that water is deep!”Yet, you threw off your sandals,you rolled up your…
By Ebhohon Majekodunmi Oseriemen He who would climb the tallest palm, must shut his ears to fearful tongues. For those below will cry, “Come down!” but the sweetest fruit is never found aground.
By Ebhohon Majekodunmi Oseriemen Oh, great one! Whose shadow stretches across the ocean, Whose feet do not walk, but are carried, Whose hands sign decrees written by foreign scribes! Tell us, wise one— Does the farmer feed his children by uprooting his farm? Does the river quench its thirst by drying itself to dust? Yet you say suffering is…
by Ebhohon Majekodunmi Oseriemen Where is the sun?It rose yesterday, but today it hides.The earth drinks blood, not rain,And the wind carries whispers of names long forgotten. The drums are silent—Not for lack of hands,But because the hands that beat themNow clutch their own throats in fear. O elders, do you not hear?The rivers are swollen, not with floods,But…
My people, listen.Jonathan Ihonde sang.He warned us.But did we listen?No. We booked a room.Biggest mistake of my life. The receptionist smiled.“You’ll love it here!” she said.She smiled too much.Her teeth were too white for this kind of hotel.But did we listen?No. The AC worked—if you kicked it just right.Kick too hard?Boom. It fell.Almost crushed my roommate.The manager came in,…
What happens when you challenge the establishment?…
The Great Delusion invites you into a…
—for Professor Alofoje Unuigboje— by Majekodunmi Oseriemen…
By Majekodunmi Oseriemen Ebhohon They say the…
