Notes of Untitled Country – Village Crimes

    The poem “Village Crimes” explored through a symbolic language, navigates nuances of societal norms. It’s a commentary set in a tightly-knit society; of individuals grappling with the shadows of their own transgressions, morality and the heavy burden carried by those who dare to expose the truth within. 

    It brings forth a narrative that invites us to collectively question religious intervention in the face of moral decay, reflecting on the complexities of power dynamics and individual desires. And in essence, to capture desperate attempts by all to reconcile with the impact of our silence — at the boundaries where socio-political morals are tested.


    Poem: 

    Let me dare tell you the truth

    Of the village

    When the sun flirted with us

    Night came in shadows

    We were sent away by a wind that lost way here

    The taste of our iniquities hovered on our tables

    Our very important people seriously broke the village pot

    That we were eating from

    And we couldn’t say a word


    Last morning

    Our father was told the truth of his tongue

    They say he through the back of his wife-our mother

    We stayed gnashing our sorrows

    It was when nakedness of our eyes

    Lurked enough at the village square

    That the chief boldly slept with the wife of the priest

    When he, the priest, went to pray for the chief and the village

    The daughter of the chief also fortunately slipped in love with the priest

    They made enough love to interrupt the silence of daylight

    And the servant of the priest

    He also grabbed the twins of the queen mother

    In the shrine

    Come and see cemented kisses pounding


    Could you believe

    The concerned neighbor who saw all called it sacrilege

    He bought truth to pay the debt of this fraudulent village

    But the people

    My people…

    Your people…

    Our people…

    They came for him at the neck

    And the priest requested for his head

    He said he has burdened the land with a curse

    What did he do

    He questioned the skin color of the priest’s teeth

    He informed the people of the chief 

    Licking his hands at a gathering near Osu


    Today

    Our coward elders still go pouring vodka over his grave

    I don’t blame them

    I don’t blame anyone

    They say

    It is to redeem us from the curse


    Could you believe

    Upon all these

    God and his silence dances abroad romantically on our ancestral soil.

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