| The sound of a distance drum, then a voice in Bakweri (the language spoken by the people on the foothills of Mount Cameroon): |
|
| Voice |
Mama-ma weloooo, Njiya Ne Njiyalene Tata-Ma Welooo Njiya Ne Njiyalene Wama Nuka Too Mooli mekolikoli Zri Ngweya Zruu Zri Na muko Moli Mekolikoli Zri Na Ngweya woo Zri Nene Jujuke Na Mevomba wa neya ene zre ya mawongor |
| Narrator |
After two weeks in a forest, a hunter comes across a skull, he stepped on the skull, and it speaks, saying: |
| Skull |
"My mouth brought me here." |
| Narrator |
Shocked and bewildered, thinking he was hearing voices, thinking he was hallucinating, the hunter stepped on the skull again, for the second time the skull speaks, saying: |
| Skull |
"My mouth brought me here." |
| Narrator |
Not believing what he was hearing, the hunter stepped on the skull, for the third time, the skull speaks saying: |
| Skull |
"My mouth brought me here." |
| Narrator |
Without looking back, the hunter runs at extreme speed, he crosses the village park, he crosses the stream where women do their washing, he runs past the market, he runs past the village square and eventually to the king's palace. He elbows the guards and eventually makes his way into the king's inner chamber. He summoned the king and tells the king what he saw, what he heard, and what he had witnessed. It is a taboo to tell lies in this society. Freedom of expression is limited to the Text Committee, the body in charge of literature and all artistic forms, with the king at the helm. The hunter was asked repeatedly, again he told the king and his entourage what he had heard, what th skull said. He was asked repeatedly, and with no hesitation, he told the king what he had heard, that the skull had spoken. |
| Voice |
I dreamt A friend took his music to a land near Babylon, the hiding place of Ayatollahs, mullahs, and their cronies, Here, you can hear the music playing You must not be seen enjoying its lyrics, Like big brother, The Mullahs, the ayatollah, they have eyes here, there, and everywhere, Not even in a reverie is one safe, Here, in these blessed land, here where the River Nile flows, It is irreligious to enjoy "the sound of music". Here, in the land of ancient mystics, there are too many skulls Their mouths brought them here, So, I have heard, a story was told, about a farmer and his three sons titled "Shut up" "Shut up". The Mullahs did not get the moral of such tale. They cried Haram to such satire, In the hullabaloo that followed The mbira-musician escaped, his skull intact The music is "chaosing" Babylon is on fire Mother of all bombs has been dropped Ayatollah, and Mullahs are chasing, the elephants are fighting, the mbira/musician is jumping, he is shouting "My mouth brought me here" Its accent unknown in these lands Haram haram haram |