tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7555516329392912719.post-4127259317035589172007-09-15T19:20:00.000Z2008-05-13T00:53:55.373Z2008-05-13T00:53:55.373ZI met people baba…<br />They talked of things so fine.<br />They talked of skyscrapers and fast cars<br />and I remembered you grandpa: I remembered our holy village<br />with the mud houses and thatch roofs we so treasured.<br />The mud houses and thatch roofs we built with our hands.<br />and the old broken bicycle in the corner that Uncle Thom was so proud of.<br /><br />They talked with such excitement about the disco<br />and I remembered the nights we sat around the fire<br />not wanting to breath lest we miss a word of your awesome stories.<br />They talked about the women who had faces like their palms<br />and clothes like skin.<br />and I smiled in amusement because my mind galloped back to<br />the full moon nights<br />when men drummed and children clapped and<br />women stamped their feet and twirled around<br />in smooth rhythm to timeless music.<br />Full bosoms heaving, paying homage to music that transcends<br />generations and age.<br />I remembered grandma and her friends<br />laughing toothlessly and trying without success to join the dance.<br /><br />And yet they talked on…<br />and it confused me.<br />Because I didn’t come here to wine and dine, but to shine.<br />I remember our debut with nostalgia.<br />Grandpa, remember how we set off?<br />With a dream in our hearts and a vision in our eyes.<br />With your blessing on our heads and your advise in our ears.<br />The taste of the millet porridge still on our tongues.<br />But here I find so many ills vying for authority to pull me down.<br />Yet my spirit laughs loud.<br />The millet porridge may taste faint on my tongue,<br />but I remember I came from strong stock.Rob Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06507320627534702508noreply@blogger.com