Farming Hymns (Kpari Yiila) Poem by John Agandin

Weeding the fields couldn't be more delightful!
Though backs are breaking in the noonday heat
Palms blistering from gripping rigid hoe sticks
Sweat trickling down the groins of labouring kinsmen
And all their muscles are taut with effort,
The smell of dark loamy earth freshly upturned
Releases a singing trapped in the lungs of men

The thrill of the singing banishes all weariness
And even the weakest muscle would gain
Such momentum as to break the moist earth with iron
Whilst hearts throb with the harmonious choruses
Hymns that at once inspire, admonish, teach, and entertain
Singing of the village news as much as the secrets of men
One is forced to pay as much heed as to work harder

Every drop of gin sent coursing into half-empty bellies
Lends leverage to even unwilling tongues
And the sweetness of agreeable voices are released
Every deed of men is censured or eulogized
From sexual prowess to adulterous relations
From nocturnal domestic quarrels to miserly neighbours
From mere gluttony to revolting avarice

The murderous scourge of stubborn ghosts and witches
The uncharitable host and the bitter taste of his pito
The sex-starved bachelor who knocked up the village retard
The man who jumped into a barn to pull back his foreskin
The boastful imbecile who spends all the day at the local tavern
Whilst his home and fields are overrun with wild weeds
All are but themes for singing delightful tunes.

As the whisperings and theories are intoned,
The hoes rise in unison and the weeds are slain
Precious crops are freed from their strangling hold
And hopes for a good harvest are heightened
Whilst in the house, women feverishly scrub
Bowls and calabashes to prepare the evening meal
And the happily-worried host has children chasing his prized ram.