Pangs Of Slavery

Under the scorching sun, we scrubbed. With our bare backs , we bore the heat from the sun ray.

With our feeble hands laid to the flax and wool, we toiled day and night. 

The tender moulds on our chest jingled with each movement. Our bare buttocks danced the rhythms our bodies made.

And there came the usual thrust from the unfortunate albinos. With strong slams on our bum, they'd thrust forcefully from back , making animal noise.

We'd silently engage as a moan was considered a taboo. They'd do the deed and spill their irritating akamu all over . 

Slowly,  we looked forward to the thrusts as a cake they may seldom spare.

we watched Abike die from abuse , while a shot from their long sticks put an end to Victor who couldn't bear watch the white cannibals feast on his sweet love .

with our gritted teeth , we sobbed uncontrollably.

Oh !  For a little time in our thatched huts feasting on papa's roasted yams and oil we sincerely covet.


D O R C A S   AN D R E W

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