Development

Hi, all
This is a poem I wrote in 1999 about the issue of development in our country. It is a little nostalgic and anti-modernist. Yet, it is true that those who do not enjoy the fruits of development will always look back to the "days of old when all was free". It is not a protest of development in itself but a reminder that not all is ok. Something should be done for those left behind. Hope you enjoy it and get spurred to do something for the poor.

1.      Development

Once stately palms shielded these kids from the Harmattan’s hassling boo

But a thing came called development and hacked away their soothing coo

Once frolicking monkeys roamed these farms, our harvesting mothers to woo

But a thing came called development and harried them away to a distant zoo

Once peaceful days were ushered in by the enchanting cuckoo

But development came with loud booming sticks and aimed away all that too

Once, to be great, men wore a providential turaco’s quill

But they now wear but impoverishing suits from a far eastern mill

Once our hearths were overhung with tons of kill - nature’s gift that served no bill

But a thing came called development, foul kwashiorkor in our house to instil

Once for a lifetime of toil in sun or rain one suffered no chill

But a thing came called development and gave every meal a companion pill

Once a faithful wife could be had for a calabash full of palm oil

But development came and took all the girls to town for a roasted mackerel spoil

Once a wife was a worthy partner both in sport and in toil

But development brought them manmade hair which they only want to coil

And once teenage girls from lecherous men will recoil

But development came, twelve year wombs with myriad abortions to boil

Once for a barn full of corn with seed we replaced the burnt ferns

But development came and wrapped the soil in waste plastic cocoons and we hungered thence

Once you could drink from the marshes while playing with the terns

But a thing came called development and drained sewage into the fens

Once sweet free wine would rob a hypocrite of all pretence

But development came and the bamboos now rot on the big man’s fence