Here I come again wise one
To sit at your feet
And hear those tales about my country,
My ears always itch to hear.
Tell me how those Oyibos sailed their way in
And how they convinced some to worship their God.
I want to hear again that awful story
Of how our fore-fathers
Exchanged their children for mere mirror
How can I forget about the slave trade era
Those heavy chains around their necks
Hands and feet.
And those fearful-looking monster padlocks.
Remind me of that mistress
Who named my country after the River Niger
Tell me about the wars you fought,
The strategies you took
And how they fled in many ways before the INDEPEDENT.
Will you still tell me about the military regime
Of how one coup led to another?
How brave innocent ones were given life sentences,
Murdered in cold blood while others went on exile.
Wise one, I know you’re getting old and weak
But allow me to tell you about the things you seeth not.
And enlighten you
Of the events you heareth not.
The land that used to be globally known
For its Agricultural products
Is now thirsty of blood
Just because some heartless ones now choose
To irrigate with innocent blood.
The oil producing areas have turned kidnappers dens.
Premium motor spirit is so unstable
Like our power sector
And increasing in geometric progression.
Our naira is losing value
Unemployment gaining stand daily.
Strike in the calendar of Schools
And starvation strolling in the land.
Our roads are not safe for long journeys
And that is the journey so far.
Wise one, talk to me
What can we do?
(c) Okeme Jerome