Beasts of Nalunga VII Poem by Jack Mapanje

So, when the wizards and
witches practise their rites
openly, given the liberties
we enjoy; when the satanic
disciples insist on pinning
down the beasts of Nalunga
each into their own frames
as patented by World Bank,
IMF and other pecuniary
beasts; when we wish these
beasts bound up hand and
foot and left stark naked on
mountain tops, for vultures
to feast on, as fated by our
ancient rituals; even when
the city, town, township taxis
take these beasts of Nalunga
for their life despot returned
from hellfire to taunt easy
up-country people, replete
with the spirits of his Young
Pioneers, Womens' League
and dancing the big dance at
their hero's open air theatre
of barbed wire cemetery -


Indeed, when the country's
criers scour the rift valleys,
cliffs and mountains ranges
pulling their nets of twine,
each hoping to catch beasts
of Nalunga of their desire -
nobody but nobody knows
where these beasts of Nalunga
come from, where they are
headed and what they really
are; the truth must surely be:
when our temporal spirals
have done their final round,
we'll find beasts of Nalunga
lurking here, lurking there,
lurking even in you and me.