Icheke: IV By Okogbule Wonodi

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We fell into the river, 

splashing the water

on the riverweeds;

we heard the rushing of water, 

smelt the offshore farmtime ashes 

and heard the offshore farmtime songs. 

We moved with the currents 

showing kola-free teeth...

But we have poured more wine 

than the gods can drink, 

more than the soil can drink 

and have become outcasts 

dispersing the fishes 

for which the baskets are laid, 

and the fisherman did not like us.

We turned and left the spot; 

but softly his voice rang: 

The waters are yours 

and the waters' yours, 

we are mere beings 

beggars for your kindness.

Oh! watergod,

give us, oh give us, 

your products for our care. 

Soon the evening will come 

and we'll go home with our baskets;

let not those who sit 

by the fire feel cold. 

We looked at each other, 

packing our things hastily 

fearing more curses on our heads.