She’s a beauty, behold her! The princess and giantess of Africa
She has it, she flaunts it, careless of her loss of stamina
Her eye lashes are firm, long, like uprooted cassava sticks
When her hair stares, combed or uncombed, you can’t just but pick
Suckle if you like; her breasts remain erect, filled with black gold
Her curvy hips, sexy, broad, as though securing limestone so cold
But alas! She sells her body for peanuts and then starves
Her hips are now broken into two unequal halves
Punctured in the navel, she releases gold and gets on with plastic
Tortured by her crown, she’s missing her heroes! If only she were elastic…
Somebody, help! Her rams – ‘bokoed’; her farms too – ‘bokoed’
How will she eat red, red cassava, maize, and cocoa?
With her oily feet burnt like timber before her own eyes
She stands crude, nude, having honour and glory in disguise
She’s lost all but peace- her friend and greatest enemy
Her Niger and Benue frown at each other- oh, what matrimony!
She has neither sun nor moon: all but lost in the bloody flood
Her stars in Yobe and Borno shed heavy tears of infant blood
Her Saviours come to kill, to steal, and to destroy
They kiss her lips; whip her hips, and act so coy
Although she’s hapless, not homeless; helpless, not hopeless
Her countenance depicts life in death, and joy in sadness
At her centenary, give her not guns or swords, but a pen
With which she’d rise again, even stronger than ten men!
Written by: Smart Abavo
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.