The Three Truants. Poem by Tony Adah

We three had
A hoe, a digger and a spade
To be truant was like
Digging one's grave
To be buried the next day
We three were going to be buried
If we too long mortgaged
Our tomorrow for the bush.

But I spared my friends the friendship
And foe was the name of our bond
The bush training was wild
We poached hares, squirrels
Breaking kernels of palms
Hunting blackberries, dewberries
And raspberries.

If I had added latex
To the bond of this friendship
Perhaps I would be the one
Out there in the village
Bent over a hoe!