Few years ago, I came across OKANGA, the talking drum. The drum was full of beauty. It was melodious. It was palatable. It was a sound of emancipation. It was humanistic.
The beauty of the talking drum dwelled in its quest to help extricate humanity from social malady – poverty and underdevelopment.
The melody of OKANGA was kindness to humanism. The rhythm was philantrophy. You can call it altruism. Others have opted to baptize it as charity but I christine it benevolence.
When the OKANGA blast, the echo reverberate with stories of goodness down to Enochi where it located long abandoned and forgotten ballardist, Madam Alice Igbe Oklobia in the Elulu forest.
When the OKANGA blast, people from Akpoge – Ogbilolo, Apa, Igumale, Ijigban, Ulayi, Ekile, Izzi, Ufia stream out in ululations in appreciation of the philanthropic activities of the talking drum.
When the OKANGA blast, the hopeless and jobless youth of the Apa kingdoms celebrate in ecstasy as their hopelessness fades into hopefulness.
When the OKANGA blast, Eloyi raced from Enumabia river in far away Orocity, the land of milk and honey to confluence with the mischief priest of Okonobo to propitiate the gods in appreciation of this rare gift.
When the OKANGA blast, Prince Yemi, the pen pusher rolls out his trumpet to invite Aipoklobia to the banquet of Emo in O’eje fortress in Ewulo.
When the OKANGA blast, both the Lions and the leopards, friends and foes becomes one and feast together in the jungle for the common good of all as animosity take its flight.
When the OKANGA blast, the wicked and stingy personage decapitate in awe and agony in lamentation of “where have I gone wrong?”
When the OKANGA blast, Covid 19 quivered as lockdown become a beehives of alimentary carnival.
When the OKANGA blast, like the beautiful early morning harmattan wind, both the olds and the youngs cluster around burn fire in anticipation of the new sheriff in town.
When the OKANGA blast, it herald the arrival of a new era. The Era of care. The Era of kindness. The Era of conjugal love. The Era of being a brother’s keeper. The Era of peace and blessings.
In OKANGA, we are loved. In OKANGA, we are cherished. In OKANGA, we are enveloped in happiness. In OKANGA, we are protected. In OKANGA, our future is assured.
OKANGA, may your days be good. May your days be long. May you continue in your quest to extricate humanity from the quagmire of opprobriums anchored on poverty and underdevelopment.
OKANGA, may God bequeath you more favor. May He grant you Divine love. May the Almighty continue in His kindness to you. May you harvest your bountiful reward in this planet.
Thank you for touching lives.
Ene Yusuf, writes from the Flawless City of Ugboju.
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