Poems by Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

Poems by Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st
 
 
Song of the Exile
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned,
I returned to bury mother,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned to bury father,
I returned.
 
I escaped the demon,
I returned,
And found the Devil;
I returned;
I wandered in foreign lands,
I returned,
I returned to bury home,
I returned.
 
I ran the funnel footed master,
I returned,
And found the old monster still sits,
I returned;
I wandered in foreign lands,
I returned,
I returned to see mother’s face,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
The monster’s lapdogs chase me,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned,
I returned to see father’s face,
I returned.
 
I found the old monster
Drinking little people’s liberty,
I returned;
I found the old monster
Drinking the sucklings’ virginity,
I returned;
I returned to see my Africa’s face,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
I found the baneful monster
Firmly rooted on father’s stool,
I returned;
I found sleepless days home,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
I robbed my myself from his mouth,
I robbed my very life from his claws,
I returned;
I returned to see mother’s body,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
I robbed myself from his mouth,
I robbed my very life from his claws,
I returned;
I returned to see father’s body,
I returned.
 
I found the old monster
Chewing bloody cud of rags,
I returned;
I found floating dust of clouds
Vomited by metallic monsters,
I returned;
I returned to pay my last tribute,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
I am my liberty,
I sing my nativity,
I returned;
The sight of homestead is horrible,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
My house is my cell,
My sight frights the throne,
I returned;
To physician my sick land;
I returned.
 
The monster swallowed me alive
Like Jonah, failed to metabolize me,
I returned;
I escaped from the big bully,
I escaped from his big belly,
I returned;
I escaped from his anus,
I returned.
 
Daughter of my mother,
Only one like an egg,
I returned;
I took the cows to drink waters,
And eat from the salty soil,
I returned;
They kidnapped me like the Americana,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
With cuffs on my hands,
With locks on my lips,
I returned;
With chains on my legs,
I returned.
 
I see the beacon of hope,
My sister,
The lights peering in through the reedwalls,
I returned;
Elephants of poverty knock women,
Buffaloes of black wizards,
I returned;
The buffaloes horned me down,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
To rest in my fatherland,
To sleep in my motherland,
I returned;
A slave at home is a slave indeed,
I returned.
 
A prisoner at home I am,
A slave at home I am,
I returned;
I am a prisoner
Till my people’s free indeed;
I returned;
I am a prisoner till my home is free indeed,
I returned.
I am the rightful heir
To my father’s stool,
I returned;
I am not a half cast,
I am the heir to my father’s sitting stool,
I returned;
Make way, I knock down the fool,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my mother’s child,
Open the door,
I returned;
I am Nelson Mandela of my land,
I am the River Nile,
I returned;
I am flowing back to Victoria Lake,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my father’s child,
Open the door,
I returned;
The tyrant fell from the stool,
The tired are tired,
I returned,
I returned with the tyrant’s head,
I returned.
 
I am the ball of fire,
Lit in the Banana Republic,
I returned;
This land is Orwellian,
The blind follow the blind,
I returned;
The Nile that flows to Victoria,
I returned.
 
I am Zimbabwe, I am Liberia,
I am North Sudan, I am S.Africa,
I returned;
I am a peace seeker where they fight,
I am economic freedom,
I returned;
I am Libya, I am Egypt,
I returned.
Ayaa, my dear sister,
Open the door,
I returned;
The monsters they comfort me,
Within this living hell,
I returned;
My people’s liberty’s mine,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
How blissful, how blissful,
I returned;
To have everybody equal,
Just judges, children’s laughters,
I returned;
To leave you in peace,
I returned.
 
Ayaa, my dear sister,
How blissful, how blissful,
I returned;
To have no corrupt man,
To have no tribalism,
I returned,
To have no racism,
I returned.
 
Let fight together as brothers,
Or perish together like fools,
I returned;
We hold no weapons,
Our weapon is truth,
I returned;
The future’s now,
I returned.
 
I may not sit on that stool,
But the people’s choice will,
I returned;
Where the rules of laws,
And the people’s power lead;
I returned,
To die for a noble cause,
I retruned.
 
Aren’t you tired
Looking at combats on the stool?
I returned;
Aren’t you happy
Being led by a fellow civilian?
I returned;
I returned to rest my case,
I returned.
 
He that rules us is among us here,
But we don’t need no liberty,
I returned;
Their cuffs they comfort me,
Within this living death,
I returned;
To die where I was born,
Such a joy, such a joy.
 
 
 
The Horn of Lokwiya
 
Akello, Akello yo,
Akelle, my dear wife;
Come back I see your face;
When will I see your face again,
Akelle, my dear wife?
Your Shea butter oil
Still smells on my bed.
 
Akello, Akello yo,
Come hold my hands,
Home smells badly without a woman,
Come back I boast with you,
I play my Nanga, I blow my horn.
 
My horn is sharp, do you hear?
 
Akello, Akello yo,
My mother-in-law’s daughter;
Famine has done bad,
Famine has fallen home,
Famine is baldheaded,
Who today will return my royal one?
 
We vowed to live till death part us
 
Akello, Akello yo,
My Laker, come hear my horn,
My horn of love calls you back home,
House shakes, but is settled by words,
The very words that built it;
Who will keep our children?
A man has no breasts,
His chest is dry like rock.
 
What is a man without a woman?
 
Akello, Akello yo,
My Laker, come back see me now,
Things have defeated the man,
House has defeated the man,
How will set fire today?
Poverty is bad-headed,
Who will return my wife today?
 
My horn is sharp, do you hear?
 
My bed is too large,
Sleep cannot steal my eyes,
Thoughts want to murder me,
Black wires of hairs stand on your head,
Two pawpaws stand on your chest,
Black woman, natural woman,
My bed is too cold.
 
Hurry up down here, can you?
 
The lady is flat bellied,
She does not eat too much food,
If I had herd of cattle,
I would marry you now,
The royal one, my King’s Daughter,
Akelle has no scars on her legs,
She has no scars on her thighs.
 
She is my African heartbeat.
 
My mother in law’s daughter
Is smoother than an eel,
Her blackness reflects her beauty.
My black Queen comeback,
I will go to Jinja, I will cut sugarcane,
I will go to Hoima, I will go and mine.
 
I must marry you, my Queen.
 
I can’t read white man’s books,
If I did, I would write you a letter;
I would tell you my hands
And legs are in cuffs;
I have become excretion shoveler,
I am become excretion carrier,
I wanted to die to rest when you left.
 
 
 
The Waiting Room
 
The world is but a waiting room,
And all merely resting travellers,
Leaving untimely for resting room,
Where the fatigued are but dwellers.
 
There are but biting hungers here,
And wars are fought hard to be won,
And the unfurling toppling so dear,
We, the sojourners, ne’er were born.
 
There are strugglers all the same,
Who all upwardly seek not a reborn,
And in such ambitions seek no change,
But that none takes their orbs worn.
 
We’re all in this mad waiting room,
Each for himself and God for them all,
Beds of roses dull the day of doom,
When each for himself for his funeral.
 
Then here is the end all must seek,
Love your enemy as you love your God,
Turn for another slap on your cheek,
He that slaps ne’er misses the bull dog.
 
©Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

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