With measured steps of integrity
Your lean legs transversed the length and breadth
Of
the Sahara.
And other Almajiri toe nails
Excavated the debris of a king’s integrity.
As your hands transformed into soldiers’ swords
The General’s swords dealt a fatal blow to the father of garrison
politics
And his booths struck at the palace of a thieving Caliph
At Obohia Ndoki.
Again,
The General’s arrow chiseled a pathway
Through the rocky hills at Amaikonne in Aba
So that goods from Ariaria Market
Can flow in torrents to the Fulani beggars in Ojota
At Christmas.
Yes!
The General’s sword cut down the mighty irokos
In the evil forests of Idumota
Unbelievable!
The armed robbers at Ore
Mistook the noise from a bursting bicycle tyre
For a gunshot from a rampaging soldier and ran.
They ran! And ran!! And
ran !!!
In such times of adversity and success alike
The beret of refined soldiers sat willingly
On the bared heads of patriots
And perched on the styled –hairs of African women
Like a crown sits on prince’s skull, or rests on princess’ head.
But from time immemorial
It is a truth never told
That no Caeser has ever won a war
When the National Army is led by Brutus.
For Brutus sword is not fashioned
By the cause of justice.
It is the noose suicide tightens
On Victory’s groins
To murder the joys of Nationhood.
Therefore
Welcome
Welcome my lanky General.
Ibiala!
Nnoo!!
Ibialawee!!!
Dalukwuazi
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