Our country is on a journey to a greener pasture.
A journey began many years ago
By these sets of drivers who knew not about the wheel;
But think of how hard they fought just to get hold of it.
The wheel belongs not to them at all at all,
But they were in haste to control it all;
Shouting we can, leave it to us.
Yes, at last, they got the wheel,
So they claimed to depend no more on their master.
Hurray! We now control it ourselves,
Passing its control from the old to the new.
But not anymore to you young yonders.
‘You are the leaders of tomorrow’ they say,
But are we? Of course for that they fool not us,
Since we care less to learn the art of the wheel.
See, see, the wheel is getting stiff.
Oh why? Many hands want to control it.
Even the old hand refuses to leave it.
Hmmmm! They claim to be the big chief.
So for the seat to control the wheel,
He needs just first to sought the chief.
Isn’t he supposed to focus on us?
Of course he is, but for the influence of the chief,
These old chiefs who call us their tomorrow.
Brethren, if I may call you,
Do you even care about this journey?
Whether the to be driver is good or not,
Do you even care to know?
Aren’t you he who ensuffer us?
Oh! Are you surprised?
Think of those which you took
Just to be fooled by these ‘apa’
Who spent as much for the unsure seat,
And now we are broke like an alien slave.
Still, they rob us in their unmasked agbada.
But with all these, you refuse still to think.
See, I’m tired of these stagnation,
For day and night on this journey,
We are driving into depreciation.
Can’t you all see what’s left of our money?
It is much empowered with inflation.
Even our petrol has started acting funny;
See what it turns us to at the filling station.
Five naira is no longer money,
Or what can it buy in this situation?
See, see as our mothers keep struggling
Just to make us survive this tiring situation.
Are we not old enough to start giving?
Just compare yourself to your mate in the master’s nation.
Those whom you blindly love imitating,
Imitation which makes you think not of a solution.
You turn your deaf ear to the nation’s suffering,
All you care of is getting, in this nation, a mansion.
Wake up, I beseech you,
For we all need be part of this struggle.
But to be part of this struggle is not by ‘wobe’,
And not for you to ‘fee joku’ in this situation.
They made you think of these as a way to stardom,
So as for you to care not about driving them off the seat.
And you are thus busy running after the so called fame,
Claiming things have been taken over by the silly street.
But ask yourself what have you taken over?
Is it your mastercraft deceit to your girlfriends?
Or your 0 1 0 master meal formula
In this dependent state of our nation?
Brethren, if I may call you,
Have you no shame?
Think of their age when they declared us independent,
That which was influenced by their love of this nation.
But who knows? For that’s how they presented it.
But at this age, you are busy ‘shokiing’,
You claim to dab at the expense of this suffering,
And you remain docile thinking not to be involved.
In this dependent state of ours,
What do we not depend on?
Is it the machine in our factories?
Or the generators in our power companies?
Is it the imported foods we consume?
Or that of the clothes we wear?
Is it our home made shoes which you refuse to buy?
Or the promising talents of ours that they refuse to groom?
Yet you laugh at our Ikeja made rubber
That bears made in England as if we know nothing.
Its hightime we started thinking,
Thinking and acting on this drastic situation.
For this is my nation, your nation and our nation.
©Shonde Ismail Adeshina (SIA)