“Never Allow Igbos Rule Again”

The untold secret of the acronym “Naira”

Signed into currency to further again

Humiliate a people so undeservedly humiliated

With scourges of death, rape of the pregnant

Confiscation of property, motivated

By a flaring desire to stagger and halt

The struggle of a people and their disposition

Towards self-rehabilitation

My ascendance to the presidency

A dream killed before it is dreamed

A pact signed into currency

A pact christened “Naira”

Alienates a people from forced nationhood

The pact that forebears the death of Nigeria

The pact that murdered my dream

I am dead, but my spirit awakes

And with it awakes a desire

The desire to fight for my identity

A desire that burns like fire

Scorching through an automated hostility

Unto our forgotten selves

Unto the fire that was dreamed of

Lying waste in the graves

The desire to die for Biafra

Biafra! Biafra! Biafra!

A nomenclature that chokes Nigeria

A nomenclature that breeds fears and hostility

A nomenclature that is ordained to be

A nomenclature that holds the rain for posterity

A nomenclature that forebears the birth of my dream

A nomenclature that gives meaning to my being

A nomenclature that defines me as supreme

My technological ascendancy

A dream aborted

Aborted by a treaty immortalized by currency

Through the midwifery of “Naira” pact

Edicts and commandments

Policies and appointments

Gradual erosion of developmental trends

Through systematic denials

Denials of the basics and rights

Denials of right to self

I will stand against inhumanities

And wage war against notorious principalities

Against the marauding troops

The robbers, the bombers, the Dracula

The blood thirsty snipers and Islamic vampires

Government commissioned executioners

Licensed exterminators and the villains

The marauding annihilators

Massacring me, the quarry

I will fight to the last drop of my blood

I will fight for my right to breathe

I will dam this sweeping flood

The flood of Biafran blood

Flowing across the shores of Yola

To the Madugri basin

Eroding the soils of Kaduna

The Yobe gardens and Kano farms

Through the glazed gates of Abuja

Unto the filthy altar of the mosque

My flesh fertilizes the soil

And my blood waters the plants

So it has been for ages

No more shall it be

Kill me now for the last time

And let my blood buy posterity

Quench my breath before my prime

And let my death signify a new birth

The birth of an identity

The rebirth of a dead dream.

By Nelson Ofokar Yagazie