A Poem By Peter Ochohepo "Agatu My Homeland" (Part 2)

Agatu my motherland, 

Blessed indeed, peaceful and calm

Reminiscing the days we danced in rains 

Children running in-between the houses and corners naked

Running naked without the fear of death

Indeed, we had a home

When we paraded ourselves from village to village,

Showcasing our ceremonial Christmas dresses

Eating from community to community without fear of death

Sleeping around with friends from other villages 

Not minding who's guns are loaded with arms or not

Yes, I bless the day I was born 

And yes, I curse the day our peace was lost

When love and brotherhood were thrown to the dust,

And no one cares to give it an iota of thought,

Not even to X-ray the tears in the streets.

Mothers crying for babies that were killed, 

While fathers and elders continued to weep in silence,

Young and happy infants became orphans at a glance,

Bread winners sent to early graves like a trance

And yet, we are still chanting for wars with pride

Agatu my homeland,

We speak in one tongue and tribe,

Living together in one land,

From a single ancestral root and bloodline,

With our clannish diversity traced to different sons of a single father.

Yet, we act like we are never connected

Why ruthlessly, hating each other without consideration?

Thirsting for our brother's blood beyond imagination.

Indeed, we act like a cursed generation.

Agatu my homeland,

Shame unto your leaders of thoughts,

Woe unto your kings and arrow heads,

Whom have continued to tear your young bloods apart,

Basking in the mournings  and sorrows across our lands.

Some for personal gains and the quest for power,

Others for mere pride and prejudice,

Even for financial benefits and privileges.

They continue to set the house ablaze,

Tearing down the walls of love,

And building enclaves of hates,

Surrounded by weapons of war.

Oh, Agatu my beloveth home

Why speak of clans and spread hatred?

I hear you say Adogoji and Acheja,

Others say ilowa and Agbaduma,

Some say Agatu East and Agatu west,

What of minorities and majorities?

Soon you hear Egba, Abugbe, Ologba, Aila, bla bla bla...

Why speak of insignificant differences,

Not minding our ancestral origin and shared similarities?

We neither speak different tongue nor tribe,

Living and surviving within the same land,

Sharing common heritages and cultural values,

Indeed, our forefathers must be in anguish and pains

While our common enemies sit back and laugh

Over this display of worthless rascality and stupidity

Agatu my motherland,

We must wake up before we are lost 

Lost indeed and consumed by this war

A war without end nor benefit

A war with no strategy for collective  survival

A war that will only tears us apart

And set our fatherland over to strangers 

Turning our warlords to lone rangers 

While we continue to hold unto the virus called anger

Agatu my homeland, 

The time to forgive is now,

Yes, it hurts to recall your loses,

Loved ones gone, valuables destroyed,

Homes burnt, villages deserted,

Yes it is painful, but we must take a decision,

To let go and toll the path of love.

And To those that take pleasure in the hurt of others

Let the wrath of the land befall them at dusk 

That their days be short and full of sorrows

Agatu shall be peaceful again.

To be continued

By Peter Ochohepo