We belong here
Why fear and flee?
This is our land
Our fathers toiled and tilled
The soil to bring food to the people.
We rise like the tall baobab
And wage wars like the fierce sun
In scurry and fury
Towards the battle line
We built a fountain of hope
From the weedy fields of destitution.
We belong here
And hence shall lie our bones
Protected by our own soil
And not of that where we live like a fugitive
Let them erect walls
Between themselves and the people,
They shall only make things worse.
He who relish in the flames
Of avarice shall be consumed by it.
They have ruled us
And made our backs a place for their loads.
The cry of the people,
The sweat of the cripple
Shall bring them to justice.
Those who made life miserable
For the people and call themselves leaders.
Where thence do we go?
We are not cowards
Nor are we weak to claim our rights.
The schools are for the rich
What heinous crime is it being poor?
They ride with our money
To the white man’s land,
Drink his beer and wears his clothes.
They come back to tell-
Their people they were remote
And made the laws of the land
Too harsh on the people.
We won’t leave, here we belong.
Let them hear
Even if they are deaf
To the plea of the people,
In the market place, in crumbling huts
And those who made the farms a home,
We will not run from those we fed
And made rulers over us,
We have a right to the luxuries of life-
They alone have subjected themselves to.
Yesterday market women were flogged-
Chased away from their stalls.
Children whose fathers could not-
Afford the school fees were chased home,
Someone was relieved of his job-
And police men have turned into scare crows,
With the aim of destroying our corn-fields.
We won’t keep quite,
Even if we are being thrown into-
The dark room or being shot at.
No jobs for the youths
Kidnappings in the Niger Delta.
Tribal wars and everyday conflicts
Why fear and flee?
This is our land
Our fathers toiled and tilled
The soil to bring food to the people.
We rise like the tall baobab
And wage wars like the fierce sun
In scurry and fury
Towards the battle line
We built a fountain of hope
From the weedy fields of destitution.
We belong here
And hence shall lie our bones
Protected by our own soil
And not of that where we live like a fugitive
Let them erect walls
Between themselves and the people,
They shall only make things worse.
He who relish in the flames
Of avarice shall be consumed by it.
They have ruled us
And made our backs a place for their loads.
The cry of the people,
The sweat of the cripple
Shall bring them to justice.
Those who made life miserable
For the people and call themselves leaders.
Where thence do we go?
We are not cowards
Nor are we weak to claim our rights.
The schools are for the rich
What heinous crime is it being poor?
They ride with our money
To the white man’s land,
Drink his beer and wears his clothes.
They come back to tell-
Their people they were remote
And made the laws of the land
Too harsh on the people.
We won’t leave, here we belong.
Let them hear
Even if they are deaf
To the plea of the people,
In the market place, in crumbling huts
And those who made the farms a home,
We will not run from those we fed
And made rulers over us,
We have a right to the luxuries of life-
They alone have subjected themselves to.
Yesterday market women were flogged-
Chased away from their stalls.
Children whose fathers could not-
Afford the school fees were chased home,
Someone was relieved of his job-
And police men have turned into scare crows,
With the aim of destroying our corn-fields.
We won’t keep quite,
Even if we are being thrown into-
The dark room or being shot at.
No jobs for the youths
Kidnappings in the Niger Delta.
Tribal wars and everyday conflicts
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