Why?
Why do you tell me sweet words,
With a voice as smooth as palm wine,
When your heart is far from mine,
Not with the love that holds like a mother’s embrace,
Not with the strength of ancestors’ prayers?
Why do you promise rain,
When you leave me thirsty in the dust?
Why dance in the town square,
Calling for my vote with drums and songs,
When you know my voice will be silenced,
Lost in the noise of the elites games?
Why speak of change with a silver tongue,
When your hands are tied by the shackles of power?
Why send me to the farm,
To till the soil of your dreams,
When you will not share the harvest,
Or lend a hand when the hoe grows heavy?
Am I just a worker in your farm land,
A footnote in the story of your rise?
Why call me for a job interview,
To sit in offices with polished floors,
When my worth is measured not by merit,
But by the weight of who I know?
Why do you summon me with empty hopes,
When the gate is closed, the way is barred?
Why speak of love,
When you will leave like the harmattan wind,
Cold and swift, leaving cracks in the earth?
Is love a fleeting shadow,
A moment’s warmth under the igi-oshe tree,
Only to fade as the sun moves on?
Why, do we harm one another?
Why do we cut when we can heal?
Our ancestors spoke of unity,
Of hands joined across the fire,
Yet here we are, tearing the cloth of kinship,
Leaving it tattered, frayed, and torn.
Tell me, why do we do this?
