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This is a tale of a broken heart This is the news that was whispered in the market. When I saw the maid from Mazi Nduka's house I dreamt she was my spouse So that my melancholy days were no more That gentle sadness, which began when mama whom I adore Joined our ancestors, my heart now abhor. Asam, my comely maid is the delicious soup Everyone wants a taste of it, I am the owner Of the three storey building near my father's compound In Amuzo. I acted like a child who had a new cloth, I waited Under the mango tree, for the maid whose sight abated My ache, my pain. I called her nwam, my baby. nwam oma; fine baby She smiled. she laughed. Her black skin shone from the palm kernel oil, mmanuaki Her grandma had made. Her eyes is a mirror; the glorious stars's abode Her hair is the thick forest of Amuzo I held her hands and told her the story my mother told me How the princess of Amuzo long ago Became fair to look upon because she danced well At the festival of the new yam. My Asam laughed and whispered to me She whispered to me she was as innocent as the day she was born That the wall between her legs were waiting for me In three market days, kola nuts and palm wine Shall see the kinsmen of my beloved My father shall say we want the beautiful Flower in Mazi Nduka's house Or the she goat in his compound. I like the proverbs of my people, But I love our prospective conjugal right My mind envisions. Last night, I heard the gong of the town crier Every one went to the town hall; Three maidens must cross the river of Amuzo That river which turns red at night, and Swallows the girl who losses her shoe Three pure maidens, must bring a pink pebble From the bank of the river, or be married to the king My departed fever jumped into me Next thing I saw my self seated beside My ancestors. Then like a scene seen from afar I beheld my Asam, thrust a metal blade Into her flesh.
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