By Alobu Emmanuel
At least 50 people, mostly children, died after an overloaded boat capsized on Thursday 20th August in Nigeria’s northwest Sokoto state. The accident took place near Gorau in Goronyo local government – Reuters
It’s Janazah, and the Imam is saying something
about the river gives and the river takes.
And I know people of Goronyo,
how you must think of me
as a cruel god—
That miser poultry master
fattening the fowls only for its gains.
How is it that the same river that swells your grains
of rice—the rice your children eat—
The river that strolls down their smile
goes behind your back to do this?
But if you sit with me, I’ll tell you something
about your village and its weight.
The battered boat opening its mouth, gasping for breath.
Just as with your grains and children
chattering in the wet of rain.
I do not know how to not say yes
to whatever unclogs itself and permits me to come in.
One day the horizon will sail to shore
and there’s an Arabic lullaby a grandmother will sing her daughter.
About the boat that set off in a faraway place
took her heart and soul but forgot her
And I’ll cry. Yes, I, too, have feelings.
Like the incessancy of the desert sands,
my tears are destined to flow, infinitely guilty
An endless stream you’ll never know.The River Explains (Itself).
At least 50 people, mostly children, died after an overloaded boat capsized on Thursday 20th August in Nigeria’s northwest Sokoto state. The accident took place near Gorau in Goronyo local government.
It’s Janazah, and the Imam is saying something
about the river gives and the river takes.
And I know people of Goronyo,
how you must think of me
as a cruel god—
That miser poultry master
fattening the fowls only for its gains.
How is it that the same river that swells your grains
of rice—the rice your children eat—
The river that strolls down their smile
goes behind your back to do this?
But if you sit with me, I’ll tell you something
about your village and its weight.
The battered boat opening its mouth, gasping for breath.
Just as with your grains and children
chattering in the wet of rain.
I do not know how to not say yes
to whatever unclogs itself and permits me to come in.
One day the horizon will sail to shore
and there’s an Arabic lullaby a grandmother will sing her daughter.
About the boat that set off in a faraway place
took her heart and soul but forgot her
And I’ll cry. Yes, I, too, have feelings.
Like the incessancy of the desert sands,
my tears are destined to flow, infinitely guilty
An endless stream you’ll never know.
BIO:
Alobu Emmanuel, SWAN VIII, is a writer and an eco-poet from Ebonyi, Nigeria. He was a finalist for the Evaristo Poetry Prize (2026), Gbemisola Adeoti Poetry Prize (2025), Shuzia Poetry Prize (2024), and the Brigitte Poirson Prize for Literature (Poetry, 2023). Some of his works are featured in “Full House Lit”, “Poetry Sango-ota”,”Blue Marble Review”, “Brittle Paper”, & “Poetry Column NND”. He is on X:@noble_alobu_ and holds a B.A. in Philosophy from the University of Lagos, Nigeria