By Hassen Lorgat
on a wet rainy night in a Mediterranean city
fans, players and ballboys
tried to steal this simple, modest cloth
as it lay uninterested
on the manicured green
-the joy of fertile lands
This towel that made world news
Yet remains the simple, humble loyal servant
Always ready to wipe clean
Gloves, hands, and the contours of a perspiring face
… tonight was different
the beautiful game turned ugly
As nations made battle by other means
And all that mattered
…was winning come what may
this is not the ancients desired
So, we must find other paths to goal
Meanwhile in the field of play
Mendy looks behind him
his towel was gone,
Vanished. Stolen.
He did not have time to even curse in Wolof
On the sidelines his deputy Diouf
took centre stage,
defending the honourable cloth
from assaults and death
Diouf, when he gets his call
too becomes his peoples’ custodian
also treasures the grip and embrace
that his compatriot Mendy desired
Now alone, beneath the posts
he was the last man of defense
- A keeper of their destiny
Finally and against all odds
…they did not throw in the towel
they fought like Teranga Lions
For this simple cloth
that carried the sweat of their brow
Hassl 21.1/26
