Have you ever been to Orisun,
the land behind the sun?
Oh, it is beautiful.
Beautiful, I tell you.
With wondrous peaks and sights,
with anthills the size of small mountains
and iroko trees that hold up the sky.
There are huts that dwell upon moving clouds
and streams that flow from the heavens.
Hawks the size of horses fly toward an unending day.
Oh, it is beautiful.
Beautiful, I tell you.
I will tell you the way, you see.
If you walk through a bush
and find a tree half-flourished and half-withered,
knock gently upon the trunk and say:
“Nuwä, please excuse me. Let me pass.”
Then walk around it turning your back,
For that is Nuwä,
and her branch blocks the road,
holding the fortune of man and earth.
Or at noon,
by the bamboo grove,
if you see a girl swimming alone by the riverbed,
offer her perfume oil and ask her for a lift.
If you do not mind your clothes getting wet,
she will bring you there in one piece.
And when she asks " what did you call me ? "
ask her name
She is Abiku—
but never call her that.
She will die.
Or by night,
if you are a child
who begged for a snack at school,
you might be taken there too
by that playful imp,
the spirit ape-child.
They will snatch your spirit while you sleep while throwing sand at the Owls eye
then drop you with other children
upon coconut or banga trees.
They love hide-and-seek,
then chase you off cliffs
with the rest of their spirit friends.
And as you fall and strike your head,
they will fly you back
and drop your spirit through the roof
into your body on the bed,
just before you wake.
Keep it specific, useful, and human.
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