Baby From The River.
By Mukhtar AkpopireboMukhterra. Friday, January 27, 2012 11:09:19 AM
I took a walk by the brown river
To experience its breezy delight
As an exercise after days of fever.
Through the bush path I walked
Whistling cheerfully from my lips
And my heart I kept locked
From unwelcome thoughts and from skips
Into sad news bulletins of the day
That burdens and presses down,
Breaking hearts and holding sway,
Keeping faces glued to a frown.
Then did I see a dim shape move
Just beside the brown river's bank
Under a shadow beneath a grove
I saw something and my heart sank.
A young woman unwrapped a new-born baby
And was to throw it inside the river.
Shocked by the action of this lady
My whole body began to shiver.
"Dont do that!", I cried out loud
And suddenly frightened, she stopped;
Looking up at a passing cloud
In shame , for her plan had flopped.
-"Why do you want to do that?"
-"It's because I had him by rape
And I have no inkling of what
Or how his future will take shape,
For without a husband what can I do?
Shame has clothed me without pity.
What would you have done in my shoe?
They now call me a woman of iniquity".
-"Come, tell me no lie but truth", I said,
Is this why you'd commit this crime?
You need to recheck your brainless head!
What's gone wrong with women of this time?
I'll certainly report you to the police
For that is what you rightly deserve".
-" Oh dont do that, I do beg of you, please
I'll tell you the truth from which I swerve".
Then did the young woman shamefully admit
She had a husband whose fortunes had abated
And she felt he was now most unfit.
The idea of being his wife she now hated,
Thus when her delivery drew very nigh
She excused herself and to the river went,
That she might fling the baby very high
To fall in the torrents on its descent.
As we spoke a man suddenly appeared
And in shame she covered her face.
Through the darkness the man peered
As I was transfixed in my place.
"Zeila, Zeila",He said in a loving tone,
Thank God, you're delivered of a baby,
Oh, I'm so happy in marrow and bone,
Thank you , Zeila, my lovely lady.
And who is this man"? At me he glared.
She replied sadly,"The saviour of our son".
At that moment her mind she bared
And we listened silently till she was done.
I replied,"Money is not everything, lady,
It answers not death nor destiny nor joy,
Love of money has rendered hearts shady,
No money could have bought you this boy".
Then did I follow both to their home
And friends we became from that day,
But this story was never allowed to roam
To men's ears no matter what we did say.
In thirty years the boy did grow
To be a businessman and a famous one,
His destiny unstoppable by any foe,
He was a brilliant and charismatic man.
One evening his parents and my family sat
And watched TV news cast before night.
The boy, now a man, appeared in a chat
And eulogised his parents as Divine Light.
"No, I'm not!", The mother cried and bowed her head
Shedding tears and violently shivering.
As we rushed to calm her we found she was dead!
I stood there shocked, my body quivering.