The spirits save the albino
By Abraham Nwankwo
Oh gods of our land hear my cry;
Why do you pierce a mother’s heart?
- Advertisement -
Is it she that paints baby black or white?
The marks on my palm have spelt my doom.
Mother of tragedy agonise no more,
With kindness upon you the gods have looked.
- Advertisement -
Your albino son will now to puberty survive:
He’ll not be slaughtered as feared any more.
Between midnight and first cock’s crow,
To the Imo River you will take the boy.
READ ALSO: Parable of the family boat
To the first slave trader at sight, deliver him;
In exchange from him collect no money.
Rather the trader thus instruct:
“This have the gods so decreed;
That when thirty-five the boy attains,
Back to his native land, he must return.”
