In memory of Tochi Amara Iwuchukwu

To the gallows

I never knew a young boy called Amara
Sent to the edge of the world not by his mother
Carrying not a gift for his host, but his own poison
A rope for him they wove fit for the winter season.

I never got to meet a boy called Tochi
He was way too brave well beyond his age.
He took the way that they told him to by air
Another man’s fortune to be his own despair

Did he say goodbye, did he cling to his father?
Did he tell his mother he will see her in a world another
As the sun in the East did rise, his last meal they did prepare
As they led him to the rope, his hands and feet to the cold, bare

I never knew a boy whose father was called Iwuchukwu
Yet for him I cry and the tears do not cease to flow
For the men who sent him, I will create a strong kind of voodoo
Their song and dance I will stop, as Oluchi, did never grow