Feet cut through mud in a journey
to discover river.
River:
my mother told me stories of
women who became bodies of water
and met in lokoja
came from Niger and Benue
wooed nomads through their banks
and in rain, flood rice farmers in tears.
How can two women come to be one
without rivalry?
without bitterness?

I am searching for Niger
but not in stories;
not in the legend of it's fishermen
whom with weak boats slay through
river horses
nor in the folktale of misery
of it's witches

I am searching for Niger
in brownish colour,
the Niger of mungo park
the Niger that has human for rock;
staring Abuja from Suleja.
Now i see Niger through the eye of Gurara
cascading tears.