If A Pensioner Drops Dead
If a pensioner drops dead
Under the weight of waiting in Africa
His blood is somewhere in Europe
Buying Big and flashy mansions.
If a car somersaults
By a yawning pot-hole
Innocent blood flows free
To feed the minister’s great great grand children.
We have come to the thick of the jungle
Where heavenly rays rarely penetrate
Irokos and obeches rivalling for dominance
While poor shrubs struggle to reach sunrays
As the gods wave their evil wands
Teeth of inhumanity biting deeper and deeper
Into the fragile skin of feeble conscience.
From Ethiopia to Namibia
From Angola to Nigeria
Children of Cush have tasted alama
And now can no longer sleep.
So if your brother finally gives up the ghost
Because doctors are again on strike
Is his blood not somewhere
Fueling someone’s private jet?
If Millions and Millions starve to death
Across the length and breadth of Africa
Is their blood not stored in Western vaults
Erecting factories across Europe?
Copyright: Dumbiri Frank Eboh
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