Avenging our ancestors, not with spear and hate, but with words and love.
No, not love for their oppressors but love for the resilience with which our ancestors stood tough,
and with words placed side by side we tell these tales of trial and triumph.
Before time began, before numbers started numbering, even before they started writing down our history, the Dafuna canoe had been a wonder of its time, the Tera Cota from Nok had been seen nowhere else and the Igbokwu bronze was a representation of our knowledge and wealth
The Benin artifacts...enough can't be said,
They are still a wonder to behold even to the 21st century curator
And till this day they still line the museums and galleries of the oppressor

Before the 15th century , before the ships that decked our ancestors kissed the shores of the cost of Benin...before the boots that trampled their skulls stepped on the soil of Aguma...we had seen the formidable military technique of the Kanem Borno empire and the administrative prowess of the Sokoto caliphate
We had seen the mysterious architecture of the Benin kingdom and the boisterous trade of the Oyo empire.
In the years between 18 and 19 and onwards the oppressor raped our lands and looted its fortune, then turned around to tell us that the man who answers the cock’s crow in his Obi and ask for favour from his chi is called a heathen and he is evil
But this heathen was not the owner of the ship that took away 25 million men, women and children to slave in the cotton fields of foreign lands
No, the owner of the ship was the same person who brought in the Bible and Quran and asked us to close our eyes and pray with clasp hands
…and so the mind of the poet will stay captured in the rhythm of the sacred army of the Ekumeku Resistance Movement...their memories will reflect the sun, the memories of those who disturbed the comfortable and comforted the disturbed.
The memories of the indomitable Chief Nana Olomu of Itshekiri
The memories of the great Oba Ovonamwen of Benin
The memories of JaJa King of Opobo;The one whose tomb lies in the west indies and whose name still trembles the queen
Now, in the name and glory of these men and many fallen and forgotten, the poet holds this truth dear to his heart: The creeds of our ancestors are no error to correct and no wrong to undo!
These words...the words of the poet are the compass with which we navigate through time and memories to the moment when we got these scars that we now carry as a masterpiece and as a reminder that we were born free because our ancestors chose to die free!


cc:
Seun
Lalasticlala
Obinnau
Johnydon22
Joseph1013
Noskyboy
Kolajamesjnr

joseph1013:
Beautiful rendition.

I have often wondered how come we (the Black race) did not go on a war of conquest to Europe and Asia. Why is it that they had the sort of the adventurous spirit we didn't?

Comfort