I live in a market of silence
to cough is to die
I come from a people of no sense
all you see is a lie.
I am selling my canoe
if nobody buys it, I don’t care.
I will chop it up for firewood
Alaba Yaaba can cook with it.
Those idots came and scraped
the belly of our great sea
and left us nothing but sand and shells.
Now they’ve scraped even harder
and it’s started bleeding thick black blood.
A fisherman’s net cannot catch oil.
They just snatched our food from us.
We are like the orphaned children
of some powerless and sleepy god.
I am selling my canoe today.
If nobody buys it, I don’t care.
I can use it to make a coffin
We can bury our dreams in it.