We Must Return to Our Throne

Fingers blessed to till the soil

To feed from the fat of the land

Now the fingers trained also to flip the book

And savour its fountains of juice

Farm's bante is exchanged for office suit

 Jalawoota for a pair of brand new shoes

Fingers powered to salvage the world

From the discordant tunes of ravenous hunger

By playing harmonic rhythms of abundance

The fingers now play to self-ridicule

The dissonant rhythms of Babi ya Allah by the roadsides

The king who is blessed to feed the world

From the surplus produce of his fertile soil

Now scrambles for food among slaves

We foreshadowed a fruitful future

That we could feed the world for life

Like ancient Egypt during the famine

Having been blessed with rain and sunshine

But our blessing is turning a curse

The mighty warriors no longer want to fight

The farmer forgets to reverence his hoe

The cutlass that paved his path

Is now concealed beneath his lush soil

A king is crowned to rule a kingdom

In royal robes and apparel

With beads of honour and irukere oye

But, if the Oba ‘luaye, who owns the staff of authority

Now wants to wear suit and knot tie

Like one of his subjects

Then, our blessing has indeed turned a curse

We are kings and must return to our throne

Holding tightly onto the legacies of our struggles

That translated us from the darkness of dominion

Unto the marvellous dawn of liberation

Glossary

Babi ya Allah – an epithet given to roadside beggars

bante ­– farm cloth (usually dirty and sometimes tattered)

irukere oye – horsetail

jalawoota – locally made sandals used in the farm

Oba ‘luaye – a eulogy which may be translated “almighty king”