A child is missing
By Abraham Nwankwo
A beautifully moon-lit night past supper.
Children merrily play: folk-tales, folk-songs in the village square.
Under the iroko and oak: whispering, gossiping, rumouring;
On the fate of their mates sold to slave merchants.
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Lay sleeping infants on loin cloths spread on the sand.
But Iwe had a treacherous agenda:
Stole little Akunna, three-year-old beautiful girl.
But none noticed until it was time for bed.
There the cloth, but not the small girl lay.
Alarm raised by children shocked and confused.
Pandemonium as adults to the square hurried.
Women their arms into the air and men akimbo,
As what the matter was, they learnt.
But late it was: Akunna had been sold,
To the slave merchants of Bubari country.
