A Tribute to Hunger

      

“Feed the hungry,” said the preacher, 
I listened keenly, feeling my tummy 
As my mind raced back to those years 
Long, long ago, 
When it growled, gnarled and rumbled 
And I squirmed in the attempt to hide it
But how does one conceal hunger?

It is a god-spirit 
That possesses mind, body, and soul. 
Gnawing, biting, burning, breaking.  
The whole frame shudders in response 
And the limbs are weak and wobbly
The senses become rusty and dull. 
All except the nose, yes the nose! 
Which can smell the aroma of food 
Over a two-mile radius!


Read: Village Boy Impressions - Election Mangana

       

Hunger makes a topsy-turvy world!

Makes the mouth dry,

The tongue cleaving to the jaw,

The tubes writhing in agony,

As if the enzymes work overtime,

Devouring all in their path.

The postbag cries in agony,
With saggy and anaemic walls.

Sleep becomes elusive

Vision blur,

Thinking horrendous,

Talk abominable.

The world stops spinning,

Dark clouds loom overhead,

And tears are ready to drop!

       

Chikpigla made our stomachs heavy.
But exacts a vengeance next morning 
Amid bloody stools and tears. 

But plain water refuses to go down

When hunger lays siege to the castle 
So peppery water grants a short reprieve;

And we prance about in the fields

Hearing it rumble in our tummies 

Like half-filled pito gourds. 

And soon breathless with exhaustion,

We return to the shed, morose and taciturn 

As the reality dawns upon us;
Hunger has no remedy but food!

Read: Village Boy Impressions - Tribute to A Giant

     

The nights were as long as years
Yes, long, sleepless, and torturous. 
Mother told many stories of Asuom

And we listened long into the night

But the laughter was subdued

By flabby nagging tummies.  

And we learnt the wisdom in the saying
“A ‘hungry mat’ cannot be rolled over”!

As we longed for the breaking of dawn

Yet that too held no definite hope

Though men ever look to it with joy
Even as it's composed in holy writ, 
So did we rejoice at cockcrow
If only to escape from our hungry mats


Read: Village Boy Impressions - The Orangeman

When asked:

To be a well-fed slave,

Or a hungry free man?

The never-been-hungry

Are quick to choose the later

But those who know hunger

Smile and nod their heads;

They know the value of freedom

But are all too familiar with the horror

And indignity of hunger.

Hunger, like fire, is a good servant

But what a terrible master!...

Thou shall not be hungry!

[1] Seeds of the baobab fruit