Mama Preye's Ogogoro (Mama Preye's Local Gin) by Robert Nabena

Each drop I gulp,
burning my throat,
As the morning sun comes alive
Lifting my senses,
And setting my eyes aright
Mama Preye's tap,
Never ending,
Never dry

Jolly old friend,
Uniting clans at dawn
From Zarama to Kula,
Opu Nembe to Saka,
Through paths where canoes dread.

each icy drop,
Embracing my entire being,
Burning down her path,
As hot as the sensation
She leaves on my lips.

Light as a feather,
I take a peep through her bottle,
The blurred lines
From her lens,
Enough effect for a day.
Mama Preye's bottle
Never ending,
Never dry

Robert Nabena

Robert Nabena is a Nigerian author and contributing
writer for various journals, magazines and newsletters.

Stolen From Freedom Street by Robert Nabena

Fierce attacks on Mama Nneka's hut,
Swift, painful and brutal blows dealt
Trapped in a net,
A metal sling around my wrist,
I heard Mama Nneka scream
At the end of freedom street

Stolen, bought or sold against my will
A lonely traveler
On a lonely journey
Beyond the Atlantic
Tortured, stripped and chained
Amanze never knew much pain

Caged like rats,
I lay still on racks
Dirty racks befitting my price
Covered in kernel oil
We bay in Queens country
Awaiting my day of auction

Ape that I am
The rest of my life
Decided by a stranger
I am a slave
A lonely traveler.

Robert Nabena

Robert Nabena is a Nigerian author and
contributing writer for various journals, magazines
and newsletters.

Mama Preye's Ripe Mango by Robert Nabena

Her piercing smile,
Meant all was well.
Her protruding tummy,
Her tale to tell.

Shackled by beliefs
Hinged on lust
And the whims of greed.
Mama Preye's ripe mango,
Sold for a bottle of gin
And a keg of fresh palmwine.

Her value;
The worth of a cow,
Tied to the apron of a stranger
Led to a slaughter slab.

He whipped her hard,
And with each morsel,
Devoured his bowl of 'fufu'.

With audacious vigor,
Like a mangrove mosquito
He drilled for fresh blood
Oblivious of her pain,
Deeper than her bowels could contain.'

'Please be merciful
I am child not bride'
Mango's solemn plea,
A wink in the dark.

Holding on to a dry branch,
From a small frame
With a protruding tummy,
The bruise under her gown,
Told her tale.
Mama Preye's ripe mango,
Sold too early.

Robert Nabena

Robert Nabena is a Nigerian author and
contributing writer for various journals,
magazine and news letters.