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Prince of the lore (for Esiaba Irobi)
Prince of the Lore
For Esiaba Irobi.
By Odengalasi Uzoma Nwaekpe, Wuye, Abuja.
June 18, 2010.
1
You descend once, on each seventh month,
From the vast hilly protrudes of Nsukka,
Omabe , in full blown majesty.
You, as they say you are,
Brother of the Leopard,
And cousin of the sun,
Spirit conclave of the muse.
You arrive at the anthill,
And spread out your gifts,
Among numerous throngs of devotees.
This was your lot,
And this you did from the very first of time
Through other seasons and time of endless time.
But as you came,
The seventh of your coming in that tenth era,
To do your bid among men,
He, rainbow accompanying the thunder,
Ihesiaba son of Irobi,
Was stomping the anthill with his ‘Mabera’ .
You, spirit and goddess stopped in your path,
For you heard a lollapalooza of a chant,
Stentorian and mellifluous verses
Of life, destinations and passages,
Movements from a master.
Omabe, you turned to your peers,
And said of the bard of ‘Mabera’:
‘Esiaba has achieved Nirvana,
He needs no gifts from me.’
You walked on past and willed the bard to flounce abroad
To ferment and flummox all the world,
With his cornucopia of lore and chants.
You know how it went Omabe,
The whole world bears witness,
The bard of ‘Mabera’
Did just that. From Leeds to Sheffield,
To hope place, Liverpool
Through New York, Towson and Athens in Ohio,
He went on to ferment and flummox the entire world.
2
Esiaba,
You must remember,
Zeze and Mgbom were good friends.
They brought their families together.
Zeze is your mother,
Mgbom, my grandmother.
Mgbom could chant some,
But Zeze they say had a head full of lore.
You drew from her,
And shed chants abroad.
Do I not recall Esiaba? Each time we got together,
Your perfect eidetic renditions,
Of songs of bygone days, interlaced with your own work,
Eldritch effusions of efflorescent pieces.
You left me always, doubly inspired,
And insisted I must retain that nitid nature
Which you clearly saw in me.
3
As war broke out between beloved Biafra
And the Republic of Nigeria,
As lives and homes were lost and families displaced,
In the midst of butchery, deaths and needless ruin,
Your father and Zeze,
Marched with you and other siblings,
Taking the path of the curly oil bean,
Avoiding sentinels and friendly foes,
And for a season, blessed my grandfather’s house
As honored guests.
Zeze was heavy with child,
And during this pilgrimage,
Your brother was born.
The name your father gave him was most apposite: ‘Osondu’
A reference to the life saving pilgrimage during which he was born
But more a reminder,
Of the unknown trajectories which life’s path may take.
That Moniker was one for your own life
Which took you through three continents,
Teaching folks from all races,
Touching lives from all places.
And when you fell sick in midlife,
You fought and withstood all as a hero
And turned in the end victorious
As you lay down your shield, having made yourself eternal,
A prompter and brave visitor,
Our bard, teacher, prophet and brother
Revered prince of the lore.
4.
Esiaba,
You went once into the wilds,
Trounced opponents and beat unknown paths,
You returned to us with lore and chants.
Groit,
You created life on stage,
And coined numerous chants,
You knew all chants of all people,
You read one book more than the best of us,
And sang one song more than the best of us.
With your words you taught great truth,
You spoke out loud to mankind,
That Xanadu is attainable.
You scolded and lampooned,
Blazoning prophecy while on stage
And with your euphonious rhymes,
You rankled authorities with endless rebukes.
We know, we do not doubt
That at some point in the many tomorrows
We shall run back to your words great bard
And listen again to that voice
And watch you walk steadily through the stage called life
Where we men and women
Are merely players.
5.
Esiaba,
You shall dance again,
And I shall dance endless then, right by your side
My masquerade must hold its peace
And hibernate for years on end
Until we see your second coming,
And again lead our dance,
The dance of the brave.
Esiaba,
You shall teach again,
In all parts of the world,
Making men and leaders
Of folks from all races.
Esiaba,
You shall walk through the theatre again
And blaze the trail for your times
Men shall talk about you still and again
As you do that which only you do best,
We shall boast for we knew you
For as you were named, so shall it be,
Our dear,
Our very dear,
Poet laureate of eternity to come,
Esiaba, Pince of the lore.
