Kabedo tye!
Under the roof of my nature-air-conditioned hut
This, my hut -thatched with elephant grass
Keeps our long time abode cool and calm
And my millet porridge cold to quench your thirst
Drink to your feel and lets make merry
I’ve much more gourds than we can drink for a year
Take the seat my brother
This is your home
This, my wooden stool is yours now
My eldest son curved it from mvule tree which he he felled in the forest
Before he married the chief’s beautiful daughter

He told how he met her in that clamp of trees
As she  fetched firewood with her sisters
“They are beautiful and graceful,” he said
But Acan’s fairness carried him away
Like a river from where the goddess of love takes her bath

See! how unpredictably strong a young girl can be
My Son Ogwal, the strongest lad in our clan
Unfathomable a wrestler and fiercely hulking
Was baptized in restlessness
Until I  agreed to bless his marriage
Acan is his Achilles heel
She is, he says, his epitome of love

Feel free Ojok, my father’s son
Our paths have not met since the last drought
That treacherous season that dried the grass and reeds
That made us slaughter our cattle
As the granneries went empty of millet grain

“I thought the gods were angry at us
But I think when they cry-we receive rain!”
Ha ha ha
That was the first joke about the gods
You made it in the rainy season that softened the ground
And we made wattle out of the mud and built this very hut

© Mitch