I heard your songs soar through the thick forests, through the fields

But the wind hid the song, your voice, and face from the world

You were told to keep quiet, but if the hunger won’t let you from crying out

Daada had to drop you, so that the Federal soldiers won’t find our hideout

I hail thee, children who saw the famine ravage our land

Those who stood watching their teachers and fathers march

To fields of no return, to early graves, and destroyed hopes

You heard Granny calling out to Daada, sobbing as she learnt he had gone

Gone to fight for his land, with bare hands and dummies, for Biafra had no guns! 

The canons speak, you heard them destroy our home and farmland 

You cry when evening falls, and the sounds of machine guns halt

Tomorrow, Mama will visit the market, yes, she will try to find food

Your bellies hurt; they hurt so much that you ate leaves and worms, 

Mama told you all that if she wasn’t seen before nightfall

That you should stay in the bush and must not return to the hamlet

You will not dream of walking back. Your feet ache, the forest is a refuge

Now you are confused; there is still a lot of death up the hills

There is pain and frustration, as well as hunger and stagnation

The rivers always bring the taste of blood to your drinks

Now you hear the bombs whistle: ‘Tau! Tai!! Tau!!! Leave here! Die there!!

‘Why are they killing us? Why is there so much hate here?’

‘Dear Heaven! I call on You! Hear me, hear my babies! 

Will it end today? Will Daada ever come home?’

‘Did we do anything wrong? Why must soldiers kill everyone?’

You must sob silently, you must not let the younger ones hear you

But they are all awake, fright and tears in their little eyes

They searched you, catching it all, the grief you tried to hide

I’m sorry, little ones, I am sorry indeed, my heart spoke

‘Did Daada start the fighting? Should we take some food to him? 

I’m sure Daada must be very hungry wherever he is!’

‘No, he won’t want us near him or the trench where they are

He will flog us if we ever try to, but let’s sing softly his favorite: 

“Anyi no n’obubu agha
I bu agha megide uwa
Ya na Ekwensu
Ya na ajo muo
Anyi no n’obubu agha”’

Note: 

*Daada:  Father

*Anyi no n’obubu agha

I bu agha megide uwa

Ya na Ekwensu

Ya na ajo muo

Anyi no n’obubu agha: 

We are fighting a war
against the world
against the devil
and every evil
We are fighting a war 

Commentary: 

This poem is dedicated to all the babies that died during the Biafran War. The same issues that led to the unfortunate war persist in Nigeria. The Christians are being killed in the north and elsewhere. Nigeria, though wealthy, ranks among the world’s poorest countries. Biafra still seeks independence and does not need war to achieve it.