There were three eggs in one basket

that came from a very different hen;

one with Jewish blood in his vein came;

anoth’r, a Bayajidda, from Far East;

and the third a claim’d heir of Oduduwa.

These three jamm’d togeth’r and fought anoth’r;

one triumphing ov’r anoth’r,

to enslave anoth’r.



Lat’r a period of pause came,

with each egg living on their land,

which he fielded for his heir.

Buying and selling they engag’d in,

promoting their own culture

until those yellow pawpaws came

from their far snowy-hurricane-infected land;

they came ruling us with iron hands:

chaining our necks, our legs and our hands;

they’re no friends at all, at all –

but they forced us into signing friendship

while deep in their heart they met hateship.



Now we’re bombing our broth’rs;

our lands have turn’d to be kidnapp’d,

ceding to our next broth’r;

the lands our parents gave us to inherit,

the land fill’d with milk and honey,

filling our heart with joy,

the land along the coastal area.

Alas, the sun has burnt us!

The snake bitt’n our legs!

These lands are ours,

we’ll fight back some day to come!

Eche Ononukwe

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-people-of-the-river/