The chameleon that treads softly departs too soon
Let alone the toad that bangs itself upon the earth
But because Kongi is the apple of the eye of a partial god
Amid the òfíì, amidst the ọ̀láà,
Páńdọ̀rọ̀’s wind-troubled fruit savours the ripeness of age:
His cat is counting its 90 lives
 
Then, for the Lion of Africa we set loose a century drums
For the hunter of hunters a carnival of chants
For the metaphysical pen that defies fire and despots’ thunder
The nightingale is in marathon for the Guinness Book
 
Even if Olumo straps him to her back like an only child
If jealously Isara builds a vault for his umbilical cord
From countries to continents the trumpets are loud
The Antarctic to antic a deluge of wines
 
For inside the library of his 90 seasons
His legacies abound in a million books
From the ocean of his silver hairs
Our schools are littered with salient quotes
 
Cuddled at the pioneer citadel,
Adored like a gem at Nevada and Leeds
Pride of the Royal Theatre,
He broke the jinx at the Nobel court
 
At every juncture of the vicissitudes of our land,
He raises his pen on the people’s side
When metaphors prove vain, his drums defied
He hits the road to dare the plague
 
In the imperial era
When race got drunk and toppled race
He deployed his spit and expensive sweat
Shuttled from podiums to streets against the rape
 
In jackboot years,
When bullets silenced freedom together with its priests
When in blooded daylight
They swept our mandate into Jabi Lake
 
From a heart of wood,
Hand of stone
The bullet that jumped out of Rewani’s head
Found a soft-landing in Kudirat’s chest
 
When coupists snared coupists in a game of thrones
And death squads turned bombs into national gifts
He gave his soul to the NADECO force
Battled the sacrilege of the bespectacled ghoul
 
Warrior without boundary,
Ever he carries rebellion in his hunting bag
He who overthrew a studio in an ancient station
To save the air from executive lies
 
Suspected by the left,
Imprisoned by the right
The daring peacemaker that inherits blows:
He was the third force of our unCivil War
 
But amid the òfíì,
Amidst the òláà,
Amid the òfíì, òláà of our embattled space
Páńdọ̀rọ̀’s wind-troubled fruit savours the ripeness of age:
 
The chameleon that treads softly departs too soon
Let alone the toad that bangs itself upon the earth
But because Kongi is the apple of the eye of a partial god
Amid the òfíì, amidst the ọ̀láà,
Amid the òfíì, ọ̀láà of our embattled space
He surpasses the cat’s with his 90 lives.

The post Amid the Òfíì, amidst the Òláà (For Professor Wole Soyinka @90) appeared first on Guardian Nigeria News.

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