Mother's bean-cake
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December Poetic Voyage; Day05, titled – MOTHER’S BEAN-CAKE by DaXquizit.

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December Poetic Voyage; Day05, titled – MOTHER’S BEAN-CAKE by DaXquizit.

You didn’t seem too young a man!
But why so cluelessly naïve
To be patronised with a package, fake?
But why yielded to that cunning game

5 To forsake Mother’s bean-cake
And conditioned to pauper’s begging, for honey?

With Mother’s forsaken cake
Your clayed-wall knew no cracks
Your clean heart bore abundant fruits of virtues

Mother's bean-cake

10 Your sainted lips sang songs of purity and edification
Your body wore clothes of decency with sophistication
Your tutored mouth spoke wisdom with effortless elocution
Your name read Olamide, a cherished appellation.
With Mother’s forsaken cake

15 Your clayed-wall knew no cracks
You were well-nurtured
Your healthy body knew no rupture.

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One fateful blue-sky evening
Some angel-like visitors arrived your dwelling

20 Like the biblical three wise men at the manger
But under an obscure guise of a helper.
Devils in angels’ linen
Wolves in sheep’s clothing
Friends worse than dread-most foes

25 Envied the richness of Mother’s cake
With which your white shinning teeth grew no plaque
And which hitherto you’d been glued to.

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To rob you of this treasure
The astute friend formed an appealing concept:

30 The elixir for mind transformation
More precious meal than Mother’s cake.
Soon, you were ignorantly made to believe
That Mother’s cake was then a crud
Too primitive and ignoble

35 In the contemporary world of civilisation
They handed in the meretricious honey
Which you appreciatively embraced and relished
O’er there in your courtyard
Trashing the hallowed Mother’s cake in the bin

40 Like the Serpent did to Mother Eve
In the historical Garden of Eden
And your generous foe-friend laughing
O’er there in your backyard.

This, like the story of Lagbaja

45 Who heard the thunderous roaring sound
Which usually preceeds a heavy rain
And went straight into the backyard
To turn away the water in the pots
Forgetting the proverbial saying

50 That ‘A bird in the hand
Worths two in the bush’.

Hardly did your eagle’s eyes see
That the honey is not true honey
Sugar, melted to taste honey.

55 Your credulous tongue could not tell
The tactics of these swindlers.
Later, the regular bean-cake seller
Who routinely knocked at your thick-wood door
With usual blissful welcome for patronage

60 No longer make sales in your household
Honey is now the family’s favourite.
The very few, on whose dining table
Mother’s hallowed cake is still served
Those, you consider ignorant of stuff in vogue

65 Those, you tag – ‘The blind and uncivilised’
Those, you turn worthless objects of ridiculous mockery.

With the visitor’s so-called honey
Several wall-cracks to fix with money
Your filthy heart bears abundant fruits of vices

70 Your raunchy lips sing songs of vulgar parlance
Your body adorned in luxury of rags with flamboyance
Your half-learned mouth triggers bullets of the Queen’s vocabs
Your name reads Horllarmiedey, in westernized customisation
With the visitor’s so-called honey

75 Several wall-cracks to fix with money
Your sickly body grows with fracture
Giving you a pitiable blemished structure.

But why complaining of diabetes;
Why sad about your disfigured stature,

80 When you are the architect of your own ruins?
Or have you not learnt so
That a boastful river that forsakes its source
Will not, but run dry?
You trashed your valuable heritage

85 You dispised your inherited values
You forsook your honourable identity
You neglected your sustaining source
You traded your admirable importance.

Lo, the panacea for your illness

90 Is embedded in the Mother’s bean-cake
Which you have trashed for the honey.
You have to trace the old landmark
You have to reclaim your lost identity.
May be you are oblivious that

95 Your adversary is currently learning
The art of your Mother’s bean-cake
Your traded inheritance.
Their grandchildren will be ones
To later teach your grandchildren

100 The art of your Mother’s bean-cake
Your own Mother’s bean-cake
Which you, the prodigal son, at the sight
Of honey, trashed in the refuse bin,
Many centuries ago. But at a very pricey price

105 Which will warrant sweats to afford.


BACKGROUND

This poem employs a narrative style to explain the embracement of civilization by African nations to the detriment of their traditional cultures, comparing their experiences in terms of dressing, language, music, virtues and values, before and after civilization.
The poem rests on the Yoruba proverb that “when a child sees honey, he discards bean-cake”. But in this case, it’s a pseudo-cake, which has has caused Africans negative aftermath effects…………

ALSO READ :- Interesting Piece :-OUR MUMU DON DO by DaXquizit

ALSO READ :- Poem:- ‘The Penultimate Round’ Edited Final Edition Russia 2018 ; JUNGLE-KICKS 2018 by DaXquizit.


©Oyesomi O. Emmanuel (DaXquizit™)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

fatherland, jungle kicks - daxquizit, penultimate round, homage, lyrical refuse, nocturnality, unknown land,mother's bean-cake

The author, poet, daXquizit

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Oyesomi O. Emmanuel, fondly called DaXquizit, is a product of the prestigious Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, with a Bachelor’s Degree in Social Studies Education, and The Polytechnic Ibadan, with a National Diploma certificate in Public Administration.

He’s a writer, an editor, an administrator, an autodidactic English Language teacher/tutor, and a keen lover of football and music as well as visual and creative arts generally, and particular obsession in poetry.

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December Poetic Voyage; Day05, titled – MOTHER’S BEAN-CAKE by DaXquizit.

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