A Warning

Those old customs, my father,
Are noble things.
Our forefathers walked down
From heaven and laid them here,
At the feet of Akuabulgu-Fohr,
At the feet of Apoka-Zure.
I know that, my father,
I know;
I have not forgotten
That the wrath of our ancestors
Falls upon a man who strikes
His father . . .

Still, my father,
Next time those bambarra eyes of yours
Turn scarlet,
And the whip lashes
On Ma's shining black back,
I shall intervene;
For my hands are no longer frail,
And I shall shove and smack
And lash you too,
Ma has had enough;
You shall be paid in your own cowries,
Your back shall furrow red like hers.

Oh, yes! My father,
Our forefathers knew the like of you;
So having hit you
 I shall go down to the elders
With a billy goat, a blood red cock
At the setting of the sun
And sit with my calabash of guinea-corn flour;
I'll sit cross-legged before Akurigeya
And he shall take my offerings to Amikeya;
Bearing them high, Amikuya will go to Afohr
And together, they shall go before Almighty Na-nyinne
With my billy goat and my red cock
And calabash of guinea-corn flour,
And seek for my forgiveness;
And the Almighty shall accept it too.
No wrath shall befall me,
No curse shall follow me
Because He too will have seen your cruel deeds
I know that now, my father,
I know:
Therefore, be warned!

                                                     KWAME ADOGBOBA