On the village square
exposed to public glare
their voices loud and strident
they gathered wrangling –
gentlemen in black and white garbs
some in trousers; some in skirts
some ranged on the left
some standing on the right;
In the ensuing agon
each side stood on their stand –
“This bench is dusty”, one group says
“No, it’s shiny”, the other camp insists
“These garments are sullied”
“No, they are unsmudged “
“Let’s mend our ways”
“No, this route is our norm”;
Battling to prove their points
they raked up and gathered them
in one huge untidy heap:
the bench the arbiter sits
the robes and the jabots
the wigs and the gowns
that they may be washed openly
for all to see whose stand is right;
Swilling out the robes and gowns
scrubbing down the lordly bench
on the banks of the village stream
from the grey water nescient eyes now see:
the dung and muck
long stuck on the noble garments
the grime and dust
the sacred bench has gathered over time.
COMMENTARY BY CHINEDU AGU
In “Washing the Robes on the River Bank”, the poet delivers a biting satire on the recent uproar within the legal community in Imo State, following the controversial appointment of the fourth most senior judge as Acting Chief Judge. Through rich imagery and an evocative metaphor, the poet holds up a mirror to the Bar, capturing the spectacle of internal dissent made public—what ought to have been a guarded institutional disagreement becomes a public brawl in the village square.
The “robes and jabots”, symbolic of the dignity and tradition of the legal profession, are described as being washed in the open. This is no ordinary cleansing, but one carried out “on the banks of the village stream”, a metaphor for public discourse, gossip, or even social media. The poem paints an image of legal professionals—“gentlemen in black and white garbs”—abandoning the hallowed chambers of quiet reason for the rowdy marketplace of sensational rhetoric. The “strident voices” and the physical description—“some in trousers; some in skirts”—invoke not just the diversity of the profession but also the gendered tension, the clash of styles, temperaments, and allegiances.
The poem’s genius lies in its subtle condemnation of publicly laundering institutional disputes. The Bar is meant to uphold the sanctity of the Bench, but here, both are dragged into the mud—“the robes and the jabots, the wigs and the gowns”—as symbols of law and decorum are tossed into a figurative river in a bid to win public sympathy. The poet exposes the unintended consequence: rather than clarity, the spectacle reveals long-hidden filth—“the dung and muck / long stuck on the noble garments.” In trying to prove who is right, both sides unwittingly expose a profession in decay.
Moreover, the satire does not exonerate either camp. Both are depicted as stubbornly entrenched: “each side stood on their stand”, unwilling to yield, while accusing each other of seeing dust or shine. The poem warns of a deeper rot: that this isn’t just about one appointment or one controversy. It is about years of institutional compromise, of dust accumulating quietly until someone tears off the curtains.
For a profession that thrives on decorum, restraint, and integrity, the poem’s message is a stern one.
