(For George Akinyemi Iwilade ‘Afrika’, Former Secretary General of the Great Ife Student’s Union, aged 21, murdered with some other five people on the 10th July, 1999.)
O this tenacious tree with flourishing flowers
As the stars, at the most conscious centre
Of an ever-green garden
Into which fabulous flow of activism
Gallantly gush from the deepest forest of Aluta!
Prematurely hewed down, it was
By the axes of some dreadful diggers –
Empty-headed-employees of a senile surveyor.
A continent is satanically slaughtered
As wild bull on a sacred altar of a state.
Mourn him, o, mourn him,
Mourn this giant gadfly
O inhabitants of Awo,
Castle of great men!
Mourn him, Awoites, mourn Afrika:
For out of your conscious court,
As weed his sturdy soul was uprooted
And flung furiously as chaff into the wending wind.
O intelligentsia scattered across continents
By the whirlwind of wisdom
That annually shakes the blossoming boughs
Speak of this strangled Eaglet
At the triad trends of Iroko tree.
Speak of this cancelled crescent
At the naked landscape of Awo’s earth.
Speak of this banished beacon
At the blatant edges of pillaged plots
Speak of this cornered comrade
At the pathless hollows of walloped walls
Speak of Iwilade, speak of Afrika.
Sing, freshmen, sing;
Sing the song of Africa:
Sing the song of your fallen hero.
Sing of the darkened light
At the corridor of Awo hall.
Sing of Africa, sing of Africa;
Sing of the murdered moon
At the monstrous midnight of tenth July
Weep stalites, weep;
Tell the painful tale
Of early July to the curious minds
In the spreeing ship of activism.
Set weary woods ablaze
At the barest stage of Anglo-Moz
Weep for Afrika, tell the tale
Of this strange sunset at the cloudscape of Ife.
Awake, O Afrika, awake!
From a careless slumber of sixteen seasons
Awake! Probe the bellies of baldish vultures
That devoured your flaccid flesh.
Arise, O Afrika, arise!
Roar out as an injured lion
From the shriveling shadow of justices
And reopen the ancient books of long-forgotten crime.