Days of Innocence

We danced in the rain fleeing under our zincked roof only when the thunder roared like we stepped on its tail as the soles of our feet pattered on the earth Mother would make supper calling out to me, "Ghenerho. You'll get cold!" And when I'll return she'll roll up her age-dyed wrapper over me while I shivered on the spread mat on the cement floor, lit oil lamp beside, warmth slowly winning me over to sleep while mother's mortar would echoe into the night accompanied by rueful songs in her mouth searching for father in the belly of the forest who had gone hunting. Innocence wanted to be naked It wanted to walk the paths bare, free Youth was not envied for its burden were shared among scoffers that guffawed when dreams reaching high to the sky like bamboos was met with marchets at the stem "See who is dreaming about the white man's land! Who left among our brothers and ever returned?" I was contented to climb up mother's laps, head buried in her cleavage that never ran dry of love and lullabies that left me never to be weaned when she sat on her wooden stool slowly rocking me away with my names on her lips Lost in the smoking firewoods under the pot of the evening soup. She dreamt of me, her proud tears like palm kernel oil on my head. I had not heard the lies the mirror told Every nerve of my body motioned to rhythms pure and true and then strands of hair jutted out my tender skin like grass after first rain The big boys that no longer swim naked in the stream laughed "You are becoming a man Ghenerho" and the girls giggling with waterpots on their heads trekked down my navel and innocence was imprisoned by realization with my hands making for a quick cover and sadly behind underwears and pants never wished to be seen free again.