THEME: A NEW NARRATIVE
Letter to My First Seed
I hear the aforeplanned of the God of gods. My heart skipped. Or I should tell you, I missed some breadth. I hear how He calls you out of the deep of deep, meeting with the His gods.
The God: Malewa shall go to the world!
The gods: The world in thy full glory!
The God: Before his beginning from his space, there shall be a call of him to eshew lip flap
The gods: Malewa, this is scene 1, Take 1, Kismet, 18.2.07, and…
The God: And beget him shall his mother!
The gods: Speed… Marker… Action!
The God: Possibly, fate twines him like a snake?
The gods: Before he drawn deep in water of despare, life will shout to him “CUT”
The God: And after non-count learning from his boo-boo
The gods: Another stage may life give him
The God: Again, let his rolling begin! Until we cut him from the world’s stage
The gods: Where he must have shown thy full glory! I hear new, fresh beat, gbagbagbagba. This one not like the awakening of a dead spirit, but the ushering of a new one to life.
However, my heart skipped, not because of your existence to earth but that the gods say “Where he must have shown thy full glory.”
Where? Is it in this part of the motherland where Kongo or Derica of Garri is gold? Or where grains can only be eaten on occasion like Ileya or Christmas? Where Benue and Niger do not gree? Is it where English speaking is taken of high esteem than the sweet languages of the gods, and where out sweet culture is gradually fading in times?
Were it right a saviour king be born in a manger? Well, of a blessed womb you are born! So then you will be, like the ancient Carpenter, the glorious king that will rise the grass and shrubs in the midst of the ugly ones that refuse to die. I pray, as good fate will have it, it is you the God will use for the great harvest day to burn the tares and ever grow the wheat so that we may live in paradise on Earth!
See! The bitterness of the bitter leaf is but a façade, it will not know tomorrow.
The greenness of the bitter leaf is ever green to the eyes, so you are darling, and as its end is sugar, so will your days be!
Darling Malewa, the day doesn’t just appear in her full glory, it passes through the night, and the travail of a mother cannot be explained before the beginning of a new born.
The ground must be beaten with the hoe before it agrees to birth fruits, and before the birth of our Orisabunmi, she was roughly handled by foes and so called allies. Please, escape is not the best option. An irresponsible man is a poor man! A ugly man is he that looks away from beauty because he cannot birth it.
Dear Malewa, your part matters. Do not tread the path of our shameful father’s that commit incest to dear Ashantewa, making all go naked on the motherland. Do not be the refiners that turns beautiful Sapphire to a Sandy stone.
The Costus Spectabilis, restore it back to Orisabunmi, for she cries day and night, now is her new dawn because of your birth.
Malewa, Oh my voice is cracking as I write this heartfelt letter to you, darling, but I know you are born to win.
Your sinewy ebony is a chameleon with multicoloured coats that meets life’s brutal wind colour for colour.
In your triumphs, our pride, Malewa!
© Adelaja Adetinuke Sarah
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