The Shopkeeper of Takamanda

A shop owner stands, holding keys in hand,
In the heart of Takamanda's land.
Would they give these keys, so dear,
To one whose loyalty isn't clear?

Who would trust a keeper without trust,
To guard their store, to do what's just?
Not to a nyamfɨkah: no, not they,
For the risk to their store is too high to pay.

For nations too, these keys are weight,
Not to be given in blind debate.
They belong to those who serve the land,
Not those with power's sleight of hand.

There once was a shop in the square,
Its owner was wise, and aware.
"I'll not hand my keys
To rogues or to thieves,
Only keepers who care and are fair."

So, Ambazonia, the choice is yours:
Seek keepers who open truthful doors.
Entrust not your keys to those who stray;
Guard them well, for the people's way.

TM

— Wanaku Verdzekov