When I was four years old
My village mates and I
Used to gossip
About the African sun
At the cold morning river bank

WE WILL SAY
It starts very young
Weak,like a baby
With no idea of how to shine
From the sea shore to the forest
Under the leaves of the trees

WE WILL SAY
So, around eleven, twelve o'clock
It's migrated greatly
It grows giant muscles like an old bush ape
Wings and sharp big eyes
To glare down on the earth

WE WILL SAY
I wonder if this same sun is in Europe?
Freely it creeps in and out
Of our patched, thatched,palm- leaf huts
Peeping into very little holes it's sees like a thief

WE WILL SAY
But I love the way it smartly sketches shadows on the warm ground
Tall standing trees,walking beings
Trays on fish sellers heads
Like it's taking photos

MY FRIEND WILL SAY
Sorie Lol,do you remember when I told you I saw the sun in the village well one time?
I wanted to catch it like a fish
But I couldn't fit its face in my bucket

I WILL CONCLUDE THE TOPIC OF THE SUN
Ha-ha! You can't hoot it
It's bigger than you