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WHEN THIS CARNIVAL FINALLY CLOSES By JACK MAPANJE When this frothful carnival finally closes, brother When your drumming veins dry, these very officers Will burn the scripts of the praises we sang to you And shatter the calabashes you drank from. Your Charms, these drums, and the effigies blazing will Become the accomplices to your lie-achieved world! Your bamboo hut on the beach they'll make a bonfire Under the cover of giving their hero a true traditional Burial, though in truth to rid themselves of another Deadly spirit that might otherwise have haunted them, And at the wake new mask dancers will quickly leap Into the arena dancing to tighter skins, boasting Other clans of calabashes as the undertakers jest: What did he think he would become, a God? The devil!