No love like yours, Chichi, but I have to go
The earth calls; the demand of blood-filled duty.
I know not who I will face on death’s field
but Ojukwu told me the price of liberty is eternal vigilance;
to prevent another pogrom.
Gowon told them to get on with one Nigeria.
So in a clash of claims and counterclaims
they drank brandy and rained speeches
that made us pour out our blood as a libation to nameless deities.
I marched, the Land of the Rising Sun on my arm.
I knifed a strapling who could not even say ‘A raba.’
I bayoneted a boy who did not know what Ironsi had done.
I gut-shot a man who was nowhere near Nzeogwu on January 15 .
Blood washed my soul
on that day I saw him in a rage of bullets.
Lami, the striker I partnered on the Baptist High football team.
He grabbed his gun but Amadioha’s speed was with me.
In the instant he fell, our eyes locked
and I knew I had killed my soul.