The man died August 18th
His heart burst
And he flew away
To be seen no more
Except in dreams!
Pa Jubrila Amereya
Baba Ilu, patriarch of our village
The eldest of the elders
Head of hunters, wise and witty
Kind, thorough and truthful
Ogboju Ode who talked to the gods
On our behalf he consulted the spirits
He knew the secrets of the past
And the abodes of the gods
The pantheon of our forefathers
Herbalist, moralist, spiritualist
He healed the sick and the afflicted
Dancer, crusader, masquerader
He was all, yet so pure
His talents he used as he deemed fit
And for the goodness of all
Too bold to bow to tyrants
He whipped the wicked
With tongues of flame
But cuddled the just and the weak
Now this cultural icon is gone
To the abode of the gods
Who next to show us the way?
Except the One who called him
To His high abode
Where we all shall meet
To part no more.
Rest in peace, Papa Ameriya
You live in our hearts
To die no more!
