Contributor: SAMIR RAITI MTAMBA

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And if only they heeded his call and did not dance
How wise they would be and how fulfilled he would have become!
But unheeding his call
They pulverize the earth with their wayward feet
Kneading the dust with fancy footwork against his call
Lumps of complimentary whistles
And corpuscles of adulatory ululation
Spangling the night air like a spray of fireworks.
All these errant bon vivants feed on his scathing wit
Sharp barbs spiking their habit of taking alcohol
Their habit of spending time and money on loose women
In the company of idle companions
But like little children they guzzle their bitter concoctions
Taking his gibes as if they were tonic
To chase away the tardy day.
His song swells in intensity like a cicada’s trill in the eerie forest
Castigating the folly and vices of their habits in scornful rhymes and rhythms
Pontificating to them about the virtues of frugality and providence
And the benefits of the straight and narrow path
Teaching them how not to dance to godless music
Teaching them the dangers of improvidence and profligacy
But with their usual open-handedness
They call out for song and more song
Throwing pieces of silver at his feet…

His act over, he collects their money, now his money
As they go out into the night fulfilled
For he has given them what they wanted
To chase away their cares but not their folly.


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POET, SCRIPTWRITER AND AUTHOR AT ZIMBABWE OPEN UNIVERSITY, NOW INDEPENDENT RESEARCHER, ZIMBABWEAN OF MALAWIAN ANCESTRY EDUCATED IN MALAWI AND PUBLISHED IN USA, CANADA, AUSTRALIA AND MANY ENGLISH SPEAKING COUNTRIES, NOW WORKING ON FILM SCRIPTS AND ENGLISH TEXTBOOKS FOR SCHOOLS.