By Noel Ihebuzor
Surveying his still and lean frame
I still and steel myself
trying to dam the hot streams seeking release
I lean back in time and spare tear drenched thoughts
to visit with his past before his still present
and survey a future without his comforting presence
The little boy besides me clutches my hands
all grief and bewilderment, suddenly thrust into adulthood yet a child,
struggling to be brave and I too struggle to be brave for him
holding his hands as we both struggle to suffocate the pain that seeks to suffocate us
and my thoughts tumble, my words stumble,
my mind wobbles as do my legs on this walk of farewell
a slow walk of love, honor, respect and remembrance
molten waves of sorrow scorch me as I walk and gaze
As I gaze on him and remember, and recall and re-live….
Santos, Santos the gbogbo di gbogbo
Dimkpa asa, okunrin meta,
“One Naze man at a time”
Okunrin dara, nwoke obioma, ome nwanne….
O very very Santos Achuku
Not you to enjoy the spare rib
when ribs stare at one from withering rib cages
not for you the lean prime cut
when the world bulges in the middle with the
withered frames of lean children,
soon to be cut off in the prime of childhood
lean as thin drying and dying sticks
stick children with sagging skins
which cling like dirty sack cloths to the tiring bones
Oh, Santos , how often did we rage at a deaf drunken and indifferent world
and for you, Santos, action was also soothing
and so, willingly at Lekki, Tere-Ama, okorieukwu and beyond,
he lent his throat to voice their pain
with no thought of gain
save to soften their pain and to soften his too
and soothe the pains of separation he bore
gladly he lent his time, his mind, his voice, his frame
that theirs may grow
that smiles would grace their faces
I sing for you Santos
You who now sing no more
For you Santos who loved life
but for whom songs for others was
vital for the vibrancy of your own songs
and for the voices you missed so
I sing for you Santos
I sing my sorrow and your grief
I sing for those voices,
voices whoses touches you missed and still miss
those voices who are unable to sing,
suppressed, silent, sad,
subdued and sullen
I sing for the hard of heart, haters and hatters
hard nuts, twisted and knotted
I sing Santos knowing that that your charity beams on them,
your arms of embrace still open though you be still
Gingerly tenderly, I caress your presents
this endless present,
a past that lives, heaves and breathes
and a future that glows and beckons
The three time frames, yet a continuity, endless
O very Santos, you came, you lived, you loved and you live on
the road you walk is smooth, your path is good, Uzoma
no stomps graze your feet as winged creatures lift you
lead and accompany you to the warm welcome of His bosom and light.
**** This is one of my clumsiest songs. I wrote it in 2009 for my late elder brother and friend, Valentine Uzoma Ihebuzor – ( I called him Santos and still do! ) after we had committed his mortal remains to mother earth in my father’s compound in the village! Santos sleeps right next to his bedroom window and the sands of my village lie gently on him! Today is three years since that committal! Up Santos!
