As October 1 approaches, HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY……………………
I have enormous tracts of land and vast volumes of water, but cannot feed myself.
So I spend $1 billion to import rice and another $2 billion on milk.
I produce rice, but don’t eat it. I have millions of cows but no milk.
I am 53, please celebrate me.
I drive the best cars in the world but have no roads,
so I crush my best brains in the caverns,
craters and crevasses they crash into daily.
I am in unending mourning, please celebrate me.
My school has no teacher and my classroom has no roof.
I take lectures through windows and live with 15 others in one room.
All my professors have gone abroad, and the rest are awaiting visas.
I am a university graduate, but I am illiterate. I want a future, please celebrate me.
Preventable diseases send me to hospitals without doctors, medicines or power.
All the nurses have gone abroad and the rest are waiting to go also.
I have the highest maternal and infant mortality rates in the world;
and future generations are dying before me. I am hopeless, hapless and helpless,
please celebrate me.
For democracy’s sake I stood all day on Election Day.
But before I could ink my thumb, results had been broadcast.
When I dared to speak out, silence was enthroned by bullets.
My leaders are my oppressors, and my policemen are my terrors.
I am ruled by men in mufti, but I am not a democracy.
I have no verve, no vote, no voice, please celebrate me.
My youth have no past, present nor future.
So my sons in the North have become street urchins;
and his brothers in the South have become kidnappers.
My nephews die of thirst in the Sahara and his cousins drown in the Mediterranean.
My daughters walk the streets of Lagos , Abuja and Port Harcourt;
while her sisters parade the streets of Rome and Amsterdam .
I am grief-stricken, please celebrate me.
Pen-wielding bandits have raided everything in my vaults.
They walk the land with haughty strides and fly the skies with private planes
They have looted the future of generations unborn;
and have money they cannot spend in several lifetimes,
but their brothers die of starvation. I want a kit of kindness, please celebrate me.
I can produce anything, but import everything.
So my toothpick is made in China; my toothpaste is made in South Africa;
my salt is made in Ghana; my butter is made in Ireland;
my milk is made in Holland; my shoe is made in Italy;
my vegetable oil is made in Malaysia* my biscuit is made in Indonesia;
my chocolate is made in Turkey and my table water made in France.
My taste is far-flung and foreign, please celebrate me.
My land is dead because all the trees have been cut down;
flooding kills thousands yearly because the drainages are clogged;
my fishes are dead because the oil companies dump waste in my rivers;
my communities are vanishing into the huge yawns of gully erosion, and nothing is being done.
My very existence is uncertain and I am in the deepest depths of despondence, please celebrate me.
I have genuine leather but choose to eat it.
So I spend billions of dollars to import fake leather.
I have four refineries, but prefer to import fuel,
so I waste more billions to import petrol. I have no security in my country,
but send troops to keep peace in another man’s land.
I have hundreds of dams, but no water.
So I drink ‘pure’ water that roils my innards.
I need a vision, please celebrate me.
I have a million candidates craving to enter universities,
but my dungeons can only accommodate a tenth.
I have no power, but choose to flare gas,
so my people have learnt to see in the dark and stare at the glare of Unclad flares.
I am shrouded by darkness, please celebrate me.
For my golden jubilee,
I shall spend 16 billion naira to bash around the bonfires of the banal.
So what if the majority gaze at my possessed, frenzied dance;
drenched in silent tears, as probity is enslaved in democracy’s empty cellars?
I am profligacy personified, please celebrate me.
Why can I not simply reflect and ponder?
Does my complexion cloud the colour of my character?
Does my location limit the lengths my liberty?
Does the spirit of my conviction shackle my soul
Does my mien maim the mine of my mind?
And is failure worth celebrating?
I AM NIGERIAN, PLEASE CELEBRATE ME.

Every year; we sing
We're independently free
From colonisation regime
Free
From human-slavery
Free from
Antihuman policies

Impose on we
By em British colony

Free from slavery
to a free-free world
Free from brutality
to a greater course

But when exactly
Will we be free
From the war within

When will we be free
From talks of guns
When will we be free
From wars and bombs

When will we be free
From bad leadership
Coz all I see
is corruptive cliques
occupying governmental seats

When will we be free
From terrorism
territory separatism
Religion barbarism
And tri-balism

When will we be free
From governmental deceit
And societal laws
Made by bribe-filled judge
Whose laws only affects the poor

When will we be free
From godfatherism
And political regime
Where the corruptive folks
Are immune to probe

When will be free
From deadly disease
State of emergency
And economical insurgency

When will we be free
From violent street
Filled with vicious police
Whose only role
is to harass those
Who can't afford 50 naira note

When will we be free

The north is filled
with refugees
victims of terrorism
younger kids
with nowhere to sleep
Roaming the street
Hustling
Trying to get their belly feed

The southeast is the zone
where them militant roam
Armed to the bone
Brainwashed and scoped
By them Biafran folks
Shooting this; shooting that
Disturbing peace and breaking pipe
yearning for separation
of our beloved Nation

And what about the west
Them Wild Wild West
the district where
Godfatherism dwells
Ruthless men
Political theft
And fraudulent youth
Who often get used
By political dudes
Senseless thugs
Whom at the end of all
's abused and dumped

And human-right activist
Who aren't really for the citizens
Political sheople
Misleading the people
The only thing that matters' ah
getting their pocket's fat

I'm not here to preach
But when will we be free
From being brain-feed
with lies and deceit
Most people can't use their head
Yes, unless it is used for them
Most now follow religious leaders
Instead of the Lord
Whatever the preacher says; is right
Yea, he is the man of God

When will we be free
From enchanted beats
Musical *****
That aren't up to feat

When will we be free
When will we be free

Raise the Green-White-Green
And steadily roll the rim
Even though the white seems gray
I believe one day
We'd be chanced to make
This country great again
So let us pray

O God of Creation
Direct our Noble Course
Guide our Leaders Right
Help our youth the truth to know
In love and honesty to grow
And living just and true
Great lofty heights attain
To build a nation where peace and justice shall reign.

Do well to tell me,
          Something I'm insensitive to;             Coz for me
     Am living it plain;
   But for you,
       It's all deceptive;
        Our lives lay sides by sides,
         Portrays as the naira note:
       Glued together;
        But clueless,
         of it other side,
          So please do well...
           Do well to let me know.

FOLLOW THE RULE

In a land where corruption is a virtue
Integrity is a crime
In a land where mediocrity is revered
Originality is a sin
Do away with your old believes for nobility is a lonely road leading to despair
and justice might never come if it isn't cheered on by the thumping sound of the kobo and naira
Kiss your honesty goodbye for it carries no weight nor honor
Bury your morals it isn't needed in the rural
Where sanity is scorned
Where insanity is embraced
Where righteousness is forsaken
Where wickedness admired
Do not try to be holy
It will only make you lonely
Do not turn the other cheek
It will only give you a bruised cheek
Where abnormality is normal
Where sanity is frugal
Try not to waste your strength
Follow the rule.

AN ODE OF MY DEATH (Beyond Eulogy)

When my heartbeat fades, and silence claims
Your tears will fall, but were they there when I bore the pains?
A grand funeral procession, a slow mournfully, tearfully and dolefully pace
But where were you when I begged for a helping hand with a keenly gentle face?

In life's darkest hours, I cried out for aid
But your deafness left me shattered, and my soul betrayed
No comforting words, no guiding light
Left to face the shadows, alone in the endless night
I can't hear your emotional hymns and I can't  see your tears because I am deaf and blind to life

Oh, cruel world, where death unlocks your hearts
But in life, my pleas were met with cold, detached parts
You'll eulogize my fleeting days, with hollow praise
But I needed love, care, and warmth in life's desperate ways

A coffin adorned with flowers, a farewell show
A million naira spent on Izon Ebi's musical flow
But what of the tears I shed, the sleepless nights I bore?
Did you care then, or only now, in death's solemn score?

Not now, when my voice is stilled, my choice gone
Why did you wait until my final breath was drawn?
I longed for love, for aid and for care
Not just a dignified farewell, with empty air
Like the folktales of a crocodile tears

You weep for me, but what of those still alive?
Those struggling, crying, begging to survive?
Their heart beat with mine, their tears falling like rain that doesn't touch the ground
Do you hear their pleas, or only mourn the dead in vain?

Ouseibai Bright Ebi
30th/10/2024