The mouths of liars will be shut

(One year after my public disgrace and subsequent impeachment on the F- Affair)

By Bate Besong (Published in The Post, No 0787, Friday 4, 2006)

        To Her who Rejoiced          

                      I
Your prejudices will be held against you. Just
as the mountain straw is set on fire by sparks, so
you will be destroyed by your evil deeds, and no Presidential
decrees will be able to stop your destruction.

You will be sorry that you ever
Worshipped fortune tellers and excelled in
necromancy to control events.

You are doomed,
and you have brought this upon yourself
what you have done to others will be done to your children, and
grand-children to the third and fourth
generation.

The world of the dead is hungry for you, and it opens
It’s mouth wide.
People will see you naked, they will see you
humbled and shamed.

                     II
You offer sacrifices of fatlings with incense; you who have quarantined
the Bakassi oil wells for the Party of Flames; the
Party of infernal Ophidians.
You measure the ocean by handfuls; and weigh,
the Consular agents and their embassies on scales.
Distant institutions in far away America eagerly await your prognosis.
You make acacias and myrtles, forests of
pine, juniper and cypress, beams of sycamore wood grow on
dry land!
You terrified the trade unionist and transformed his prophetic
galilee into a tribal Book
of Habbakuk, now:
DIVIDED WE RIDE.

You ambushed and tatooed the marxist whore
into inhaling your Sawa
logorrhea.(A day is coming when human
pride will be ended, and human
arrogance destroyed.)

You prepareth rain for the earth, you maketh
grass to grow upon the rocky places. The
outcast has been casteth down.

      III
The blood-thirsty vizier announces to the Faculty
of Political Science and Law "THE END OF THE AFFAIR!"
You thresh Osama bin Laden mountains of campus
insurrection, and destroy
them.

You speak with contempt about the jerusalem of the righteous.
In your Greentree place-not-to-be
The FBI honours you with the Pulitzer Prize rosette for your
Ariel Sharon decapitation
of the academic Hezbollah.
You swindler!

                     IV
You beatified a moron to commandeer
the columns of floods whose storms of
foetal fires were forged in the
graffiti; in the occult power of the
albino.

Puppets, Windbags
Jackasses of sackcloth and ashes and other
superflous offal, deviseth
necklaces in loops of red cloth from the goldsmith
of mediums.

See how they chatter after jugs of akpeteshie
and matango.

You had asked for messages from fortune tellers
and naysayers, they chirp and mutter:
'No one can attack you or break through
your defences!'

Your strength is restored with macabo of astrologers
from the prairie of an ambassadorial anointing.
Nightbirds coo on Capitol Hill.

                  V
When the sapphires of the sun, the moon, and
the stars will grow dim for you, you will be afraid of
high places.

Your teeth will be too few to chew the Party's
Bungo Tsobbi, and your eyes too dim to see clearly
in your impeachment courts, n'est-ce pas?
Your legacy will be the Bonadikombo woman sitting on the ground, stripped
naked.

You who had always been as rigid as iron as unyeiding
as bronze; who felt sure of yourself
in your Evil;
and thought no one could see you:

Your silver medallion of RDPC will snap, the golden
politbureau lamp will fall
and break, the
central committee muffler for coupeurs des routes of impunity will
develop coronary thrombosis
and the pomegranate jar of looted peasants and CTE
workers FCFCA will be shattered.

Yours ears will be deaf to the oboso and motion de soutien to
Le President Biya et Madame Chantale Biya-a!

Comments

[EBANGHA BATE ACHALE]

A THOUSAND TIMES I THINK YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN JUST A CONGRATULATORY MESSAGE. YOU ARE MORE THAN JUST A SINCERE BEING. YOU SHOOT YOUR ARROW DEEP INTO YOUR TARGET. YOU ARE A ROCK, JUST BATE BESONG HIMSELF. YOU DO NOT FEAR THAT YOUR ARROW WILL FALL SHORT OF THE GLORY OF THE HEAD OF JUSTICE. "THEY" MASK THEIR FACES AND FLEE INTO THEIR CRAB HOLES WHEN THEY SEE YOU. WHATS MORE IN IT TO TELL, YOU SLICE AWAY BOLDNESS FROM THOSE SHEEP BRAINS THAT FORGE BLINDLY INTO HADES.YOU HAVE DISSECTED THEIR MAGGOT INFESTED BELLIES IN THE BRIGHTNESS OF THE 12.00 NOON SUN. IT'S ALL EVIDENT NOW, THE FLIES THAT SETTLE ON THE TABLES OF THIER OFFICES. I WANT TO BE THERE WITH YOU, TO LAUGH,LAUGH LAUGH AND LAUGH AND LAUGH OUT IN THE FRESHNESS OF THE EARLY MORNING, WHEN OUR THE SOUND OF OUR LAUGHTER WILL BREAK BARRIERS AND RAVAGE THE CEMETRIES WHILE WE WATCH THEM, HANDS CLUTCHED BEHIND, MARCHING UNTO ETERNAL DOOM. THAT EARLY MORNING WILL BE A SYMBOL OF A NEW DAY AND THE REBIRTH OF DECAYED CAMEROON.
KEEP THE BRAVERY. WE LOOK UP TO YOU.
EBANGHA BATE ACHALE