They picked Akanni up one morning Beat him soft like clay And stuffed him down the belly Of a waiting jeep.
What business of mine is it So long they don’t take the yam From my savouring mouth?
They came one night Booted the whole house awake And dragged Danladi out, Then off to a lengthy absence.
Chinwe went to work one day Only to find her job was gone: No query, no warning, no probe – Just one neat sack for a stainless record.
And then one evening As I sat down to eat my yam A knock on the door froze my hungry hand.