By Tikum Mbah Azonga
They came straight at us four
And for cover, we ducked
It was like re-enacting Musinga
Because the siren tore the quiet atmosphere
No one dared to cry out.
The prefect was on tour
While our hour clocked
We longed to escape on the Cam Bubinga
Out of the den and to just anywhere
Suddenly, the senile referee ended the bout.