If I had a voice to speak for Africa

My fatherland and that of my ancestors

I’ll gladly condemn the spate of inequities

That has gnawed deeply into our main fabric

That has gladly taken over our whole existence

Giving the impression that we lack clarity to see

Like the infant toiling to see through thick fog

Oblivious of his sight’s inability to break the mist;

If I had a voice to speak for the downtrodden

For those whose loud voices can never be heard

Above the whispers of gossips in a market stall

For those at the lowest rung of our dear Africa

From the cape of storms to the horn and the Sahara

Through to the sights of poverty on our paved streets

I’ll make many of their pockets jiggle with gold coins

And their stomachs rumble loudly with nourishment

With dignity their shoulders would proudly be raised;

If I had a voice to speak for my darling Africa

Whether for now or even for eternal times

I’d single out my forsaken Niger-Delta people

Like a jilted lover pleads for her lover’s return

I’ll plead for recompense for our spewed oil

For the degradation that came quickly after

And the spoilage our farmlands have witnessed

For the exchange of cassava with the crude oil

And the toxic they have left in our grieving minds

I would make a case for the fallen heroes of Biafra

For they are still beings from Africa’s dearest bosom

I’ll make a case for the people the war battered

The ones that has suffered untold neglect ever since

For the image that has suffered torrents of abuses

For the unappreciated contributions of a nation;

If I had a voice to speak for my dear motherland

I will speak vehemently against business as usual

I’ll ask for a strong committee of strong willed men

To probe all heads that Nigeria has ever produced

From the grim days of Gowon to Jona’s feeble era

I would not leave out the souls with soiled finger tips

I’ll speak for generations yet to come into the land

Like the beautiful ones in AyiKweArmah’s visions

Whose futures are stacked in numbered accounts

And in fat and swollen bellies of corrupt politicians

With stolen mansions jutting out of every metropolis

And many grossly untaxed littering business concerns;

If I have a voice to speak for our dear Africa

I’ll speak loudly for my unemployed young people

And for many sojourners who are far from home

Far from the golden shores of the African coasts

Whether snatched by the wicked hands of slavery

Or pushed away by the gruesome force of poverty;

If I have a voice to speak for my own people

I’ll speak of untold hardships that reigns amidst us

Foisted upon us by successive incompetent leaderships

Of men with tainted spirits and befuddled reasoning

Men whose interest lies in their agbada’s deep pockets

I would never be held down by the tentacles of fear

I would rather speak my voice hoarse to be heard

Than still the voice of my heart’s yearning sorrow.

By Christopher Okonkwo

From: Nigeria