IF ROCKS COULD TALK
by Chrispin Otondi (LIME 2011)
If rocks could talk they would have a lot to tell
Of ages and ages long ago when the deep waters submerged them
Down into the depths of the valleys
And the hills all attained nourishment from their very still depths
Hills extensive, and majestic, thickly covered with undergrowth and trees
They would tell of the inhabitants of the land
Of kings and queens. If the palace walls could but speak
Then the story of young Fidi who gave up self to lie
Beneath royalty that family may survive
No longer strive but thrive in ancient Madagascar would be told
Tales of men and women who at dawn awoke and sharpened the farm tools on these very same rocks. Then off …..
To the padded rice fields , Zebus in hand, strong bulls
To till the land to sustain the clan, everyone to their fill
Pita pata grrr gra! Till dusk filling the fields with murky water.
At the beach, the great rock that once was but now is but all pebbles.
Still mum it can no longer be but its story it will tell
Of the first traveler from foreign lands: Indonesia, Malaysia
Who to Madagasikara coast came, bringing spices, fusing cultures
On boats, some big with cloth. And the inhabitants how they welcomed them
The tomb rocks, brightly colored would then boast
Of famadiana and how priceless it holds the one on who at its bossom lays
And how last season the village thronged at its feet
To pay homage to the bones of one no longer of this time and place
And the dances, graceful, sleek and in tune, that its eyes beheld
So let the rocks remain mum and forever never speak
For tales long forgotten in history books, dusty in libraries old
There should they stay never to be told and the culture they hold to erode
For men must speak and on rocks tread
Such is the way of the world
