Chronicle of the Sage ____Part 1

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A dusty path had led me here

Across the Niger to the banks of Benue

Forgetting the miles and mountains behind

This travelling feet of mine now trample red strange soil

Down the cliff of this unknown I jumped

Obeying the clarion call

My bag across my shoulders

My dreams across my mind

Though I had forgotten how to smile

I can still hear the prayers of mothers

And feel the spirit of my fathers

Unto to you this foreign land I come

I've heard tales of you

Told by hunters and travellers

Behind the hearth of our grandmothers

And sometimes at the market square 

They said you are that night tiger

That steals the head of the careless

You are also the morning angel

That bless the fortune of orphans

You are whom you chose to be to any

Each time I gaze at this green kaki

This symbol of intelligence 

That reminds me of our crumbling nation

I wonder really which story to believe

What lot fate will allot me

I went with the noiseless wind from the west

Unannounced, unnoticed and unknown

The man you sent to bring me (driver)

Left me at the mercy of jackals at the crossroads

Remember I had no home in this place far from home

I watched a yonder tree

Wondered if that will be my bed for the cold night

I search the sky and saw darkness coming

But why is His phone not going through

I called and called but he could not hear

Is he lost like I am too?

I won't forgive this if the open field becomes my room tonight

And even in that uniform

The strangers passed in silence

Each minding his business

"O God, what have I done to deserve this?

The exile in a world with whistling hostilities

Is more than I can bear

I'm famished!

Hear there language

Like the rantings of frustrated stammerer 

I'm hungry

My body aches for the want of rest

My eyes deemed for the want of sleep

Let this cup please pass me over"

Then my phone rang sending vibes through my veins

It was my new boss

The one to host me for the night

Not until two hours passed

Before he rode in on his motorcycle

That motorcycle must have served him for years

With its rickety appearance

And the wailing confusions in its sounds

I can almost hear it pleading for mercy

From a master already too big for its back yo carry

The cold breeze had plundered my flesh

Hunger had ravaged my bowel

Beyond the repairs of a bowl of yams

Yet he came with his expected toga of apologies

I know he will say I'm sorry

But what's that to me

Give me food and bed in a warm room

And let me kiss the night and dream of home

© Olatuja Oloyede

***************Story continues later*********