Do Not Call Me A Village Boy

Do Not Call Me a Village Boy

What's this uncooked junks you call salad?
What's this worms you called noodles?
I prostrated to greet the elders
But they offered me a handshake instead
I called her a mad lady
Because she is clothed in clean rags
But you said "NO NO NO she's cute
That's the latest fashion in town"
While you're glued to your TVs and radios
Chatting away your happiness on social media
I miss the happiness of  moonlight stories
Of boys and girls playing in the river
Or hunting rabbits in the bush
You even served me a cup of tea
Instead of roasted yams and palm oil

See, I am not free in this blazers
I am not happy in this jeans
Only goats in my land are tied with ropes on the neck
So what's this rope you call a tie on my neck?

Do not call me a village boy
Just because I know who I am
For how long must I be a slave
In my own father's land?
For how long will this confusion rage
In my African heart?
Why must I hopelessly try
To imitate the ways
Of those who killed our fathers
Raped our sisters
Enslave our brothers
Plunder our land
When will I be truly free
To be who I am?


© Olatuja Oloyede