Africa I Recollect

Africa I recollect
Swirling, dry winds in harmattan
Playing ten-ten in dusty playgrounds
Throwing stones to pull down mangos behind fences
Escaping with the trail of neighbors' curses.

Dancing atilogu at recess
Pulling grass stems, making fans
on hot days filled with charcoal smoke
filling our nostrils
making us hungry for corn and ube

Telling tales by moonlight
Chanting: "rain, rain go away"
on days of persistent drops on zinc roofs-tap tap tap
until in glee we rush outside
and get soaked continuing:
"rain, rain go away. Come again another day, little children want to play"
Gathering locusts sent from the rainy sky
Roasting them in hot oil
Relish much deeper than any icecream or cake

Peering down dirt roads on village trips
to watch engugu parade with his raffia skin
A fall to the left, then to the right, body collapses-flat as the ground
"There's a spirit in there, not a man in the costume!"
...as mother warns us

We run with explosive heartbeats, breathing heavily
until out of sight
only to find the nearest window to peer again at engugu
who is now dancing, shuffling his feet, producing dust
Shirtless men singing its praise, taming its emotions
Women not allowed
Neither are children
This is a man thing

The Africa I recall was protective as a mother's embrace
Stern as a father's discipline
But as I watch the screen
I am fed an Africa who constantly needs to be saved
-a poor, defenseless, child...

"They are wrong!" I insist
until after years of programming I arrive
obstinately at the conclusion
that maybe we are both wrong to think it's either one or the other.