More visible than a palm oil drop on the Virgin Mary’s garment,
Marks stronger than the tendons of an eighty years old African farmer,
A thicker Ladoke Akintola’s tribal marks!
Bruises on the forehead not even Tara could hide.
Strong tongue, an aftermath of fifteen years on the farm before the miracle,
The miracle of exportation.
With an accent that makes mockery of the English language,
A deliberate show-off of his newly found status,
Waves at his former brothers with pity and says,
“I hope you guys stop killing each other and learn the ways of civilization like in my country”
Our old brother,
Alamu, the American.