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Kudirat By Niyi Osundare

July 25, 2013

(i)

They caught her mid-morning
Between the wet whisper
Of the roadside grass

(i)

They caught her mid-morning
Between the wet whisper
Of the roadside grass



And the shy intimations
Of a sun still preening
Behind the clouds

The market was just
Donning its wrapper of crowds
The hawker’s voice had

Not yet fully paid its debt
To the goddess of sleep. The day:
Too young for this crossroads

Of blight and blood,
The quarry too sinless,
The clay-pot too pure for this barbaric breaking

     The date was four
     The month held the year
     By its halfly waist

And the gunmen sprang from the pit
In the arm of the street, grabbed the road
By its neck, riddled a day so new

With a volley of furious fire.
A startled country sought elusive cues
From perforated metal and showers

Of glass. Sunset so sudden:
The nation lost its sight, then its right;
Murderers walked away, so conspicuous, so unseen...



          (ii)

Her beauty chastised the ugliness of the times
Her Truth the tyranny of their falsehood
There was a glowing grace in the egg

Of her eyes that un-
Hid what their night concealed;
An aura to her presence which dis-

Spelled the awe of monster clouds
Hope songs dripped from her lips
Like magic gold from the honeypot.

A stubborn faith, a righteous resolve
A mothering mirth, immortal mettle
There was fire in her flower

Muscle in her music:
“The Mandate freely given the sun
By the unanimity of the day,

      Let
      Let it
      Let it be

Let trees wave their leaves, freely,
At the urging of the wind
Let grassroots enfranchise the migration of ants

Let CHOICE triumph over chance
Let yearning hearts reap the bounty of the ballot
Let him rule who won the sanctity of our vote

Let death die
Let hunger flee the land
Let tears depart and join the sea

Let houses link roofs beneath the sky
Let dwarfs reach out and touch the sun
Let     let           let ...”


   
Kudirat Abiola, wife of Chief MKO Abiola, winner of the annulled June 12 election, was brutally gunned down in broad daylight in 1996 while on a campaign for the restoration of her husband’s mandate. The Nigerian State has yet to find her murderers. The poem above is a slightly amended excerpt from the series “June 12 and Its Children” first published in Nigeria’s Sunday Tribune in 2004.
 

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