Somewhere in Africa, the cries of a woman
Bearing immense cutting pain
Wishing life not as cruel as it is
And forgetting the excitement
That came with knowing her man.
Alas, it falls.
Almost like a creature,
So bloody yet so fragile
Tiny fingers, tiny legs, tiny arms;
Whatever shall I call her
“Naa awula” indeed,
She will be my lady; my only lady
Spread the word my dear sisters,
For today a new member has joined us
Seven days, seven days it will be.
And the world will say her name
Pray we must;
My little lady ought to dwell amongst us
Let no evil eye beseech her
Let no evil mouth revile her
Let no evil hands stroke her
For seven days it will be
Just seven days.
Hail to the sun, for we present Naa Awula
Truth she must know and truth she will speak
Her feet shall flee from the wicked
Lest she be bewitched.
Make merry, for she comes to stay.
Come round and present your gifts and blessings.
She will grow into a very beautiful maiden
She will know no pain
May she continue in the league of child birth.
Lest her face be drenched
In the mud of mockery.
Lighten your hearts and grease your faces
Herein rises An African Woman.