“Hey bruh” sniffs and removes glasses. Have you ever thought about how much humans are like vultures? I mean, ask your local government chairman, I am sure he will have some points to add. Daddy Chinua decided that he has had enough and we too so we decided to do a Gen Z version of his poem “Vultures”. Selfishness is the new cool, bruh”.
Chinua Achebe walks in. He flings his glasses away to the basket containing refuse. There is a group of old literally professors with walking sticks, dressed in baggy trousers and sweaters huddled at the back of the hall trading Proverbs. You can feel the change in atmosphere as they trade proverbs.
“When the moon is shining the cripple becomes hungry for a walk”.
“Age was respected among his people, but achievement was revered. As the elders said, if a child washed his hands he could eat with kings”.
As Grandpa Chinua walks in, there is a pause on their side.
They look well and they see he is not with a walking stick. Their club’s attire does not resemble what he has on nor can they understand his walking direction or even the steps. It is different from the ones who spit proverbs.
There is a group of younglings circled at the far end of the hall miming “Calm Down” by a Gen Z musician, Rema with copies of ” Nearly all the Men in Lagos Are Mad”. He makes to join in. They stop. Someone says
” Grandpa Chinua Achebe?”
He smiles and says “Yes”
Some other says “Oh my God, your books are giving. Like, OMG, it is so dope. I could relate to it so well”.
Grandpa Chinua laughs and rubs his two palms together ” I know, right? As Layi Wasabi would say ” The lack of self-motivation is why the chicken cannot fly, she isn’t the biggest bird. Believe in yourself like an eagle, not a chicken”.
They look at themselves, eye balls popped.
“You know Layi Wasabi? Like the Layi Wasabi?”
Of course, I have to keep to the trends. In fact, here, he hands them a sheet of paper. “my newest version of my poem — Vultures— giving all the things, trust me. It is giving current vibes”.
They look at themselves “Let us see”. He hands them a paper.
The vultures fly high,
Searching the skies,
For something that’s died,
To fill their bellies,
Nothing else matters,
Just getting their grub,
No questions asked.
They swoop in low,
No time to waste,
Gotta get the feast,
Before the dogs and jackals,
Come to clean up the mess.
They take what they need,
Then it’s on to the next,
Nothing left behind,
Just another day,
In this world,
We’re all just vultures men,
feeding off each other,
Leaving nothing but destruction and pain.
We take what we want,
then move on to the next, all man for himself bro.
Never stopping to think about the damage we’ve done.
Who the hell cares?
It’s all just a game, and we’re all players,
But in the end, no one wins, and everyone loses.
Everything is giving ” selfishness bruh”
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