On the Green Hill Summit - Tembong Denis Fonge

Atungong

Step by step and gently I ascend

The Green Hill hoping to step on the summit,

I rock, twist and painfully pull upward,

To this spot all day long,

For, from this point, I long,

And I aspire to survive.

And to see Fonki in its entirety,

I hope to continue,

So life can continue.

Atungong!

What a submit! The Green Hill Summit.

Behind at the heels of the hill,

And behind me lies Fonki,

Houses like dishes covered

On table tops lie still,

With their silver caps.

Footpaths like strings wind and meander

Between mush-room-like huts.

Children like soldier-ants trace

The strings to and fro,

While flog in the green vegetation faintly spotted,

Like dots on plain sheet.

The calm sky filled with birds,

Floating and singing happily from side to side

And far at the horizon stand,

Mounts like giants with

Green heads kissing the sky.

Whistling sounds of insects

Compete with lovely melody

Of the joyful birds,

As Foggy cloud slide gently from on high,

Via gigantic forest wood above.

Oh! Atungong! My hope,

You make me see Fonki,

From end to end

And the land of seven rocks and beyond.

I toy and wail to arrive at your top

With kneels broken and tongue

Running out of my mouth.

While fine streams burst

And run down my top to toe.

In fatigue like a hunting dog,

I pursue my course to the summit, my hope.

Alas! Alas!

At the summit:

“I have fought a good fight,

I have finished my course,

I have kept the faith:”

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Tembong Denis Fonge (20th century) Cameroon

Source: Botsotso