The Oracle Of The Witch Doctors Poem by konye ori

The witch doctors say-
the lands fortune bag
carries a curse on the people

But the trees sway to disagree with the foretelling

The night concurs as each day carries its tales
of Elephants loosing weight in Ivory Coast
and lions crying in Zimbabwe.

They tell of the thunders cry- as eagles screech from holes in Congo
because the mountain peaks are erupting

they tell of the bullets flying like birds in a migration to Darfur and
the women and children crying; Sudan! Sudan!

They say- winds of anarchy blow past Somalia
and peace falls like the water falls of Ethiopia.

Oh, how grief holds Africa by its horn.

And the witch doctors say-
Freedom bleeds in Freetown;
Even the mines tearfully concur.

They say a kettle of vultures overlook the
blood-red sheets on Zambezi river beds
and bruised mountain foots of Cameroon
and grunt with glee.

They say Mansa Mussa turns in his grave
as tears of hunger flood Mali;
and boats are made of gold.