Author Essa Bokarr Sey
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Baobab, my baobab!
Baobab, please remember me!
I am the son of a villager.
The son of culture and religion.
The little child who drank from the calabashes of traditional values.
This is the child who rose to be told cold and warm legends.
I was told, you baobab are the custodian of my umblical cord.
I was told, it was buried near your ancestral roots.
Hear me baobab!
Hear me! The child of Samba!
This is the child that touched your sticky fluid.
I can't forget those days in the shadows of time.
I remember your powerful,superstitious strings.
These strings are pulling the ropes.
They are ringing the bells of memory in me.
Uztaaz taught me about this baobab!
Where are you the wise man?
In that mysterious palace of hope?!
Samba told me not to forget the values of baobab!
I heard your wise voice near baobab!
Baobab! whose branches chased the nocturnal owls of bad omens.
Go away! owls with claws!
Go away! fatal feelings of the scary tales.
Fear tears!
I salute the ancestral feelings.
Tales of the strong gales blowing from the village's grave yard.
Tales germinating bravery not cowardice.
Baobab my baobab!
Stir my nostalgic feelings! Stir them up once again!
I can feel the roaring sound of mother's pounding pestle.
Baobab! O! Baobab!
Are you still swaying with the buzzing bees?
Do you still cuddle the creeping lizards?
Hmmmm buzzing bees...
Honey on a sunny day!
Baobab!
How many generations baobab?
How many pounded millet near your stem?
You are a historical giant of the arid land in sahel.
You are a great witness waiting for history's long story.
You saw warriors.
You saw saviours.
Eat this sweet necter of the flowers of history!
Eat it!
Life is seasonal.
It is an abstract chameleon with so many reflectors.
Some change, some bounce back!
Baobab! My Baobab!
When shall I see you again?
Tomorrow is another shaded spot in the wilderness of time!
Author Essa Bokarr SEY.