I. FELA
And they’ll fall,
they’ll fall into the pool
of opposites that they’ve
created; they’ll fall
in between what’s
left of the threads of
tattered garbs that’s been forced
on shrivelled bodies. And the
bodies of the silenced will rise.
Abi I lie, Bob?
II. BOB
They’ll rise, yes,
they’ll rise from their
slumber, and break free
the invisible shackles that
have chained them to the
ground for far too long.
Weh yuh a seh, Fela?
III. FELA
Suffering & Smiling!
“Smile a little, Suffer plenty
plenty”, they keep saying to
us, while they’re busy giggling
to the staccato beats of
their rumbling pot bellies.
Why should suffering be our
lot inside the jagged colonial
contraptions?
Abeg, Bob talk make I
hear.
IV. BOB
But who will compose,
and sing the songs of freedom?
Who, on empty belly, will
lead the orchestra of a new
awakening?
Whose trembling hands will
make the small axe speak to
Babylon’s trampling trees?
Tell dem, tell dem, Fela.
V. FELA
After the unbearable
sorrow, tears & blood force the
song to compose & write itself,
it hovers, and finds the willing
voice, voices to let out the
secret. A well sharpened
machete cannot cut the grass all
by itself, it always needs the able
and willing.
Bob, dem go hear am!
VI. BOB
They take and take
from us, but they must always
remember that we are the Questions
that can’t be wished away. When the
Answers eventually arrive, only a
few would remain after its
departure. We, who have Heaven in
our pockets shall be vindicated.
Can yuh hear mi, Fela?
VII. FELA
Birds don’t perch on a roof
without a reason or quest. We’ve
landed on their roofs, and we are here to
collect. Though the accent may
differ, our language of demand –
chants, drumbeat, dance –
is the same.
I hear you well well, Bob.
Composition: A Fela-Marley Collaboration
