My Name Is Biafra These Are My Children


I was a mother of 23million children. I lived only for 3 years. This is the picture of annihilation, massacre through starvation, and genocide brought upon me by my ”brothers”. I lived in West Africa, now in the Eastern part of Nigeria. They killed me after brutalizing my children.

I remember how I stood on the road watching the slaughter of my children. I watched with grief as my kids expire in my arms for lack of food, water, and necessary vitamins that would sustain their lives. I watched as my sons sleep in the forests, and my daughters raped in the public. I watched my daughters crying, ”I don’t want to go” as the Nigerian soldiers carried them away as sex slaves. I buried more and more everyday. Death became the weeping pillow as I cried all night. Yes I wept as I watched my adorable children became walking skeletons.

Look and see if there is any horror like mine. Judge for yourselves did any one care? I have known pain, misery, and wicked injustice meted to me by my brothers. The world was blind then, have they started seeing now? I asked for pity, it was denied. I cried for milk for my suckling infants and was denied. I begged for mercy, and compassion, I got bombardments. Stop and look you passersby, is their any inhumanity equal to what was meted out to my children? I was hungry, no one gave me food. I was thirsty, no one gave me water. I was homeless none of my brothers gave me shelter. I was lonely and was denied the company of those who cared. In my misery no one comforted me.

I am Biafra. In three years under heavy bombardments, heavy artillery shelling, I drilled my oil, and refined it. Under most extreme hash conditions I built my airports, maintained and serviced my aircraft. I constructed my roads, and built my own refineries. Within three years I was almost self reliant, but the starvation policy of Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the man I released from prison, made that inhuman policy that killed my children. The might of Nigerian soldiers and their sophisticated weapons could not subdue the courage and resistance of my sons, then starvation did. Then 42 years after Nigeria has not been able to accomplish what I accomplished in 3 years. When would they let my children go?

My skeleton is still crying for vengeance and justice. Is the world that kept mute when I was being massacred still going to be quite over this injustice? Who will give me peace through justice? Would those criminals who brought this upon me ever be put on trial? Oh how long before you allow me rest in peace?

I am Biafra, a proud mother of Ndi Igbo, a proud people with indomitable spirits. I bless you my children. Though they have killed me, but in you my spirit lives on. I am proud of your courage, I am proud of who you are. I beg of you to continue to demand for justice for what they did to your mother.

From my grave I curse those who continue to spill your blood. I curse those who after all they did to me, still continue to marginalize you. The day of their destruction is near. Their leaders have become deaf like the ancient Pharaoh of Egypt so that they will drink the cup of sorrow prepared for her. My spirit has continued to seek vengeance against those human vultures that have continued to water their streets with the blood of my people. Those demons on beautiful clothes and suits will reap what they sowed. The day of reckoning is coming when those they bless will curse them. A day is coming when their joy will be turned into sorrow. That day is near when their daughters will be raped in the open. Those of them who hide under their powerful positions and cowardly deny justice to me will be visited with strange calamity upon them and their descendants.

I am Biafra and my spirit will not die until my curse is fulfilled


Source:?Onyema Uche

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