Culture is of no doubt; unique
It also spells out life’s nitty gritty
But the peculiarity of same must be
taken into consideration
Before some men wipe out our whole
generation
Though the Fula man lives for his
cows
Please let him also know that other men
live for their farms
No one weed can make a bush
Nor can a drop of water make a brook.
Before the legalization of bazookas
for the sake of guarding the sacred meat
What will be the fate of those who
own the munching teeth?
Cows for feast, a necessary pay by
the bride, and show of might
Are the fuels that drive the
marauding quest of the fula man,
I thought your dane guns and swords
where for marauding wolves and intruders
Instead you point and slash them on
communities of settled farmers
Leaving them in unwarranted stretch
of trauma
And in excruciating drama
Well, least you slain us all and eat
your meat; so your meat eats you
The hands with the staff of authority
hold the cane but they can’t even beat you
Rather than returning us to the era
of intolerance
I think there is a need to sit us
down
So you and they can understand that
it doesn’t pay to wipe us out because of the sacred meat.
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