Sunday, July 31, 2005
“Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.”
“He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.”Song of Solomon 2:4
Saturday, July 30, 2005
My Daughter Will Be A Star
I was still on my knees in the pews
When they brought me the good news
I got her pregnant!
I felt so triumphant.
“I am going to be a father!”
Oh! What a joy!
“Do you want a girl or a boy?”
The sex does not matter
But, I prefer a girl.
She should be very beautiful
And she should also be wonderful.
To make the boys and men to swirl
To make their hearts pant after her
Just like I panted after her mother.
I want to hear the wolf-whistles
The wolf-whistles of the randy boys
And I want to read their epistles
The epistles of their romantic joys.
Yes. My daughter will go very far
Yes. My daughter will be a star
Boys and men will fall over themselves to win her heart
And she will put all of them in her shopping cart.
As they come turn by turn
She will examine them one by one
My daughter will not play games with men.
No promises shall be spoken
So no hearts will be broken.
But, only one will be chosen.
And what a wedding that would be
A delight for all eyes to see
A joy in the sight of the world.
Then, I will go down on my knees before God
And pray, "Oh! God! Take care of my daughter."
"Make her a good wife and a good mother."
"Let her be the pride of her husband."
The joy of their children.
Friday, July 29, 2005
I am 17 and I am in love
With the man after my heart
And he is more than twice my age.
No this not an outrage
No. This is not infatuation.
It’s the natural passion of my sensation
I have known him since I was 6 years old
And my passion for him has not waned
I am no longer wet behind the ears
And I have overcome all my fears
I have waited for so long to see this day.
When my heart will have the right of way.
Millions may follow their heads
But lovers follow their hearts.
To give all my love to the one I love.
And I told my mother already.
They remained virgins as they married early.
She said she got married in her teens
When she was sweet sixteen.
Pure and true innocent virgin
Those were the days.
When girls were like God sent angels
It is a very tranquil night
Here I am in blue light
Behind the closed doors
And I have been waiting for hours.
He is coming to fulfill his promise
The covenant he made with his manhood
He will usher me into the dawn of my womanhood.
Here I am stark naked and in love.
In most of the villages in Africa, millions of teenage girls are given away in earl marriage. And earlier, the girls must be virgins. If not, the husbands can reject the bride and the pride price would be refunded. Many teachers in village schools have had the temptations of sleeping with their female pupils in secondary schools. Three months ago, I was in village in South Eastern Nigeria and the village was something out of Europe during the Dark Ages. No light, no water. Most of the villagers were bathing in the nearby streams and rivers stark naked or in only under wears. The young maidens were skin Deeping. I bluntly refused to go near the stream or river for my own sake. The nubile girls were all there for the asking. The above situation is very common in our villages and towns and other places in this world.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
There are millions of women all over the world today who are wondering, "where is all the love we once enjoyed?" in their love affairs and marriages.Men, who promised heaven on earth to woo their women, now boo them.The honeymoon is over. Finis?The man who was taking you to all the popular restaurants during courtship, now hardly takes you out to even the nearest cafe.When was the last time you took your wife to the beach or to the park?I know a cousin who does not walk with the wife on the street any longer.Is she ugly?
NO. Not at all.
She could pass for a black Venus.All big and beautiful.Where have all the roses gone?I believe the romance should not end after the honeymoon.In fact, the marriage should now be more enjoyable.
PLEASE, RETURN ALL THE MISSING KISSES
AND BUY HER MORE ROSES.
Please, if you know you are not going to make her happy all the rest of her days, don't marry her. Save her from the misery of a loveless marriage.
A man recently punched his wife to death in Northern Nigeria.I also have a friend who once practiced his Karate on the wife.A woman is always caught in Adultery.
Where is the man?Such absurdity annoys me. It is great injustice against women.
On lesbians or single women.Ask them if they are happy without a man.No woman can be really happy without a man.My mother was a grass widow during the Nigerian civil war and later, she was a widow for 10 years before she died in an auto-accident whilst on her way to work to earn wages to take care of six children.My father was a randy handsome man and he was seeing other women behind my mother's back. Poor woman. And she gave all her life to love a man that her wealthy family never wanted her to marry. Because, he was from a lower class. He did not fulfill all the promises he made to my mother.
I wrote from personal experiences.I wrote this poem and article in tears.I have been with widows and I have been with battered women.My cousin was pregnant when her husband kicked her whilst beating her and she died. He was not prosecuted and he remarried. Finis. But, I am still missing my cousin.
Are you male or female?Are you single or married?Are you available for me to prove it practically?Are you a feminist?I love women more than men.Left to women, there would have been no Holocaust.If not for Yuliya and the other women in Ukraine, Yushchenko would have lost the battle.I thank God for Women.The ratio of women to men in China is not a good yardstick to also assume that my statement is wrong.Every woman needs a man is not an assumption.But a fact of life even in the animal kingdom.For every woman, there is always the yearning for a man in a day, in a month or in a year.Ask any woman who has active senses of her organs in sensuality or sexuality.A woman without a man wets her pillows once in a while.A woman without a man fondles herself once in a while yearning for the touch of a man.Find me a woman who says she does not need a man, and I will show you a woman who has been deprived or depraved.
Please, read and empathize with her.And see yourself going through the motions of her emotions.
She rolled over
She was tired of sleeping with her.
She was feeling cold, real cold.
Sharon was by her side.
She did not want her now
She knew that one day she would bow.
She longed for the warmth she had never had for long.
All lovers knew the heartstrings of the song.
She was in the heat of summer
Only a man could drive away her fever.
Oh, God!Help me.
But her eyes were too blurred to see
The rays of light through the windows
She held on to the wet pillows.
She had been sobbing since the midnight hours.
She was sinking in the deep blue waters
She was drowning in the whirlpool of her doldrums
She was hearing echoes of the sounds in her eardrums.
Then, she reached for the pot
She wanted something very hot.
She puffed and puffed
She coughed and coughed.
Yet she was still feeling cold
She wanted a man to hold.
For only a man could wipe away these her Sapphic tears
These tears she has been shedding all these lonely years.
Every career woman and every lesbian have scary confessions
Of terrible depressions
Of many restless days and sleepless nights.
Only God knows the secrets of the heart of hearts.
I had a gay friend.He was a legal luminary in Nigeria.I have a female friend who finds it repulsive to let a man lie on her naked body. I am the only man closest to her. And since meeting her in 1997, she has not slept with any man. And I am still praying for her to find a man that will bear with her and love her and marry her. The experts said it is frigidity. Is it not more than that. I try to address it. But, I am not God. I am innocent of the functions and malfunctions of the human organs. I only try to tell them to conquer their fears.I had my own fears, but God helped me to overcome them.Because, I would have gone to the extremes even when I was only 11. And I thanked God I never did. There is no greater joy and peace than to be in love and to love a woman.
My mother was my muse until she died and my first love was until she got sick mentally when she returned home to Munich and got missing till date. She left work and she left home and was never seen again. And I blamed myself for not loving her enough.She heard of me and came to me and became my closest friend. We were both artists and poets and vegetarians. But, I refused to have a physical relationship with her, because of my Christian convictions. She was understanding and would bear with me. But, crisis broke out in Nigeria and we were about to go to war. Her mother and sister came to force her to return to Germany. I couldn't leave Nigeria. I just lost my mother in an auto-accident. And my mother was a widow and there are younger ones to take care of and it was in a state of crisis. I couldn't follow her to Munich. She left and wrote that she had problems readjusting and was now detached from her family. But, I did not care again. She had gone back to where she came from. That was all. Then, she wrote me that she was ill and left work and home. And later the family said she was missing. I have been searching for her till date.
This experience made me to be solitary and trying to understand psychological human problems. Depressions. My studies are documented in my story "Hysterics" like Franz Kafka's "Metamorphosis".Who is to blame for mental derangement?Why people enjoy being sex workers?Why a man speaks and behaves like a woman?One Nigerian female footballer just became a man recently and I am speechless.
Sometimes, I ask God questions.And I asked once that why not end it all?
Put man out of his misery.Because, I cannot bear the harrowing sights of the daily horrors and terrors.
Oh, God! You started it all, you have to solve it.
I hold on to God, in love and in peace, lest I will also go round the bend.Because, the world has become a big mess.Millions of human beings are messed up over their existential issues. Different religions, different politics, different sexual habits, and on and on...The more we are trying to solve and resolve one problem, another problem rears out its ugly head.
Suddenly HIV/AIDS erupted it!When I was about to sow my wild oats!I mean King Solomon had over 750 women and there was no HIV/AIDS.The publisher of Playboy said he had slept with about 10,000 different models before the HIV/AIDS pandemic.And when it was our turn in the late 80s to begin our own adventures of the discoveries of the beauty of the human body, HIV/AIDS came to scare us. And before you know it, I was selling condoms and preaching safer sex. And trying to put out the fire in my loins. And how hard to practice what you preach when you are an attractive sex symbol. Walking tall and very potent. How can man live on oranges alone?
The world is full of beautiful women! I have correspondences with those on a website for gays, lesbians and commercial sex workers.I was a crisis management counsellor for years.The long confessions will help you to understand me.Because, I believe in opening up my heart to free my mind, lest I choke. Besides, I am a professional storyteller.I love confessions and when I was still a Roman Catholic, I wanted to be a priest. No wonder, I became a counsellor. Confessions are good for the soul.
We are all innocent victims of Nature.
We did not ask to be created and we were created and we did not ask to be born and were born.And we soon find out that we have been trapped in a world that holds us to ransom.Sometimes, I believe Nature is the worst terrorist.Because, we are being terrorized everyday by the forces of Nature.For instance, the Ten Commandments are good enough. Then, the Church goes on to add other laws on the most natural passions of Human beings. No premarital sex, no drinking "hot" drinks and so on and forth. Then, the society adds it's own laws. And countries add their own laws.Laws, laws and more laws and yet the laws cannot control our flaws.Because, "when there was no law, there was no sin"And the earth had less wars then.We are now more violent than even the cave man!
Monday, July 25, 2005
Who will dare to love Suzanne Wenger
Should be ready to love a witch.
And you dare not snitch
For who will dare the anger?
So, they warned me.
But, I am the one who has won the hearts of the nine daughters of Jove
With the beats of my Talking Drums of love.
I have sailed in the seven seas of the seven sirens
And I have lured away the daughters of Venus
I have danced in the courts of the celestial angels
And played my Talking Drums to the crescendo of their bells.
Who Will Dare to Love a Witch?
Awesome daughter of Wenger
Wenger of the kingdom of Austria
Since forty-five years ago
You came to Nigeria.
You came and discovered Osun and Shango.
And you began to hear and see things
In the grove of the spirits of the Yorubas
You were hypnotized by the talking drums
And you fell in love with the drummer
As he drummed into your eardrums
You were mesmerized by the Bata dancer.
That was even before I met you
At the Museum Kitchen of the National Museum
The meeting place of the kindred of the lyceum.
Piercing blue eyes and golden hair
Your white skin is no longer fair
Now tanned in the African sunlight
So, it is no longer bright
Yellow and sallow
But your voice is still mellow.
As you converse with your own shadow.
And they say you talk to the spirits
The spirits of your elemental wits
The spirits who sucked all your tits?
The spirits of the unborn"Abiku" children
The "Abiku"children of your eternal burden.
Who will dare to love a witch?
And be bewitched?
To fall headlong into the ditch
And let the souls be switched?
To be imprisoned in your wrinkled arms
And spellbound in your spangled charms?
I would rather play you my talking drum
And hum you my songs while you drink your rum.
Iya Adunni! Princess of Osun
Who has become an icon?
An icon of their souls and goddess of their Art
The Art that is the breath of your spirit
White Yoruba woman
Who has become an African?
Your kindred of the sacred grove
Will offer you the turtledove
But, I will offer you the Eucharist
For if this will be the Last Sacrament
Let it be the sacrament of the New Testament
Of your new birth in the eternal spirit of Christ.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
I met a lovely man and I fell in love
And I thanked God he also loved me.
I wished he would be mine forever.
And I looked forward to our wedding day.
I told him I would be coming for the weekend
He told me how wonderful that would be.
He looked forward to seeing me on Friday
But, it all happened on that fateful Thursday.
And we never saw each other again.
Oh! My love is gone.
Here I am in the moonlight
Enraptured in the reveries
Of the lingering memories
Memories of our most precious moments
Precious moments of the sweetest sentiments
The smiles and the dimples
The laughters and the giggles
The warmth in the cold night.
Who will wipe away these tears?
Who will whisper into my ears?
There is no comfort in these tearsoaked pillows
And I can still see him in the shadows.
I can still hear the distant echoes of his voice.
And I can still see the smiles on his face.
Oh! My love is gone.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Don't cry my love
Oh, Sunniya. Don't cry.
Mustafa chose the way to go.
The terrible deed has been done
And he has gone.
God has not called us to be suicide bombers
God has called us to be peacemakers.
God has not called us to be messengers of death.
God has called us to be messengers of life.
God has not called us to be messengers of falsehood
God has called us to be messengers of the Truth.
God has not called us to be messengers of hatred
God has called us to be messengers of love.
For our saviour and Messiah Jesus Christ
He is the Prince of Peace
And He has sent us to seek out and save the lost.
Today, we will go to church
Sunniya will denounce the vows of hate.
Sunniya will be freed from the curse of their fate.
Sunniya will choose Jesus Christ today
Jesus Christ is the only true way.
Sunniya has become convinced
She will no longer be deceived.
I gave her a beautiful copy of the Holy Bible
I told her that this the greatest gift of life
The Truth that will save us from the wrath of the earth.
The Love that is stronger than death.
For the Love of God conquers all.
So, don't cry my love.
For you are no longer in bondage.
God is the comforter of the bereaved
For He alone knows the depth of our sorrow
And we are saved by His love.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Fairy Queen of Ukraine
Here she comes walking on air
In her flowing golden locks and skin so fair
Here comes my lioness to my lair.
She comes to me her king
She comes bearing the cornucopia of spring.
She comes with her kindred as they sing
In the glory of her royal train
Behold the fairy queen of Ukraine.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
In 624 AD, The Prophet Mohammad announced the Jihad–or holy war: “I will instill terror into the hearts of the unbelievers: smite ye above their necks and smite all their finger-tips off them. .. slay them wherever ye catch them….”
I got a suicide note yesterday
It was from your brother Mustafa
He is going to blow himself up on Sunday.
He mentioned somewhere in Gaza.
Why should I lose my future brother inlaw
Because, of an erroneous heretic flaw.
Oh, Sunniya. Don't cry.
I told you that I am God sent
To tell all of you to repent
Lest you will all perish
If you don't denounce this your satanic death-wish.
If you don't make peace,
You will be blown up in pieces.
That is why I must marry you before it is too late
To save you from their terrible fate.
Have you read the "Satanic Verses"?
By that Salman Rushdie?
I won't read that rubbish.
You call that classic, rubbish?
Now. Look at what happened in London two weeks ago.
Were those suicide bombers not satanic?
Good answer. Because, they must have read the "Satanic Verses."
That made them to lose their senses.
Do you like "Guns and Roses"?
What do you like?
I like kisses and roses.
That's my girl.
Come my darling.
Only cowards commit suicide.
Because, the brave will never give up.
No matter the hatred in this fair and foul world.
Let us learn to live in peace and to love ourselves.
I am God sent to save all the daughters of Hagar
From the nemesis of their fate
To wipe off the curses of the satanic verses
From their black slate.
To bring them the good news
That I have heard from the pulpit to the pews
The good news of the kingdom of God
The God who does not approve of any jihad.
Because, the one and only true God
Is not the god of suicide bombers
The one and only true God is the God of peace makers.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
She came in silken veils
Like aurora in her sails
And the siren fled at the scent of her chador
The hood of her candor
My beloved Princess Sunniya
She is the loveliest damsel in all Arabia.
I took her in my arms under the shimmering glow of the blue moon
I carried her like a baby on my laps and fed her with my golden spoon.
She smiled and her golden tooth glittered
She laughed and I tittered
Two star-crossed lovers
Across the borders
For love knows no boundary
Love is for all and sundry.
Will you come tomorrow in just Blouse and miniskirt?
Just to let them see those awesome legs.
Straight and smooth as if greased with the olive oil
You will look like the sunflower in the loamy soil.
It’s against my faith
And you know my faith is my strength.
Sunniya, the hood does not make the Nun
C’mon, let your hair down and have fun.
Sunniya is a Sunni Muslim.
And she is tall and slim.
Then, I quickly brought out the script from the Imam
And I read it all to her.
"NOWHERE in the Glorious Qur'an does Allah Almighty ask Muslims to wear a certain kind of dress. In other words, there is NO sartorial regimentation in Islam! The word "Libaas" (dress) is certainly used in the Qur'an, but it is used with "Taqwa": WA LIBAASUT TAQWA, ZAALIKA KHAIR (7: 26) - the dress of PIETY is the best dress!"
"What is the use of wearing an "Islamic" dress (IF there were such a dress) when our heart inside is BLACK - "Bo blink, BINNE STINK" - as they say in Afrikaans, that is, shines on the outside, but STINKS INSIDE! A well-known Hadith of our Nabi (S) makes matters absolutely clear: "VERILY ALLAH DOES NOT LOOK AT YOUR PERSON/FACES (whether bearded or clean-shaven, veiled (with Ninja-purdah) or unveiled, what type of dress you wear, etc.,) NOR (DOES ALLAH LOOK AT) HOW MUCH WEALTH YOU POSSESS, BUT HE CERTAINLY LOOKS AT YOUR HEARTS (how clean they are) AND AT YOUR DEEDS."
Until, your saliva fills up my cup.
Sunniya left in my T-Shirt and boxers with my Nike trainers.
You should have seen her!
She was a delight to all the onlookers.
Oh! My Sunniya!
Monday, July 18, 2005
If he breaks your heart, call me and I will come and mend your broken heart.
For when your heart is broken
Your feelings are frozen.
You regret falling for all the lies he has spoken
And you feel so forsaken.
Don't roll in the dust of your lust
Because, sex is not love.
Love is as gentle as the dove
The one you can trust.
Sean Carr and Eugenia Tymoshenko
found love From the UK to Ukraine.
What love has joined together
Let not hate put asunder.
All husbands who beat up their wives are cowards.
Offended wives can report their experiences to me.
It is very wicked to bend your knees to plead for love and when the girl or lady obliges , you later turn around to kick her around?
Those who don't know how to love should not ask for love.
Don't throw your precious possessions to dogs.
And don't hawk them on the blogs
And beware of bugs and drugs
You don't need them in your life.
Beware of the man with short temper.
And keep tabs on the one whose temper is longer.
Is only the woman that is always caught in adultery?
What of the man?
Or did she commit the adultery by herself?
The hypocrisy and injustice must stop.
The First Law of Love is: You shall love yourself first.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
I Cross My Heart For Yuliya TYMOSHENKO
Yes, I cross my heart for Yuliya Tymoshenko
And I raise my sword in allegiance to her credo.
Yes, I heard the crescendo
The crescendo of the melody of Sappho
And I heard the voices of the chorus
The chorus of the circus
The circus of the Orange Revolution
Heralding the birth of the new nation
Born in the wings of the muse of Kiev
Yuliya, the chosen daughter of Eve.
Yuliya the beloved heroine
The heroine of Ukraine.
I cross my heart for Yuliya Tymoshenko
And let the voice of my heroic pledge echo.
Before heaven and earth
Let me say the truth and damn their wrath.
For she is worthy of my honour
The honour of my valour
To be her Champion
To defend her nation.
Through the fire of the crucible
We shall become invincible.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
THE MOTHER OF ANTHONY(INSET.)
I have a message for you
It is a message from heaven
It is for those who are mourning in London
For the mother of Anthony and the other ones
The bereaved ones whose teardrops
Have fallen on the feet of God.
Whose bleeding hearts have touched His Spirit.
"To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all that mourn."
(ISAIAH 61:2. KJV HOLY BIBLE.)
and someone he cares so much for.
A MESSAGE FROM HEAVEN TO LONDON
An unseen arrow struck me yesterday
And it pierced through my heart
And struck my soul
I fell down and kissed the dust
And I saw my spirit ascending like the dove
Ascending with other spirits to the clouds above.
I thought I was dreaming
I did not know that I was dying
Because, I have not died before.
And I couldn't see anything anymore.
Then, I saw so many people weeping
As they laid me on the ground
I told them to stop mourning
But they couldn't hear the sound.
I saw someone in white by the door
But, the feet were not touching the floor.
Then, I saw an angel beckoning
Beckoning to me to come along
I could hear the chorus of angels singing
And I was glad to join them in their song.
I wanted to look down for the last time at London
But, I couldn't say goodbye.
Then, I turned to my guardian angel
"Before I say my final farewell.
Would you kindly take this message to London?
Tell her that I am not weeping or wailing
That I am smiling and singing
With the triumphant saints in heaven.
And give my kisses and roses to my mother
Tell her I will never forget her.
A Special Tribute in Memory of Anthony Fatayi- Williams and all those who died in the terrorist bomb attacks in London on Thursday Morning July 7, 2005.
This poem was composed in tears. The following report is on the glorious memorial speech of the Loving mother of Anthony, Lady Marie Fatayi -Williams.
"A Message From Heaven To London" will soon be recorded and released in CD. Copies will be available through Amazon.co.uk.
Straight from the heart
On Monday, Marie Fatayi-Williams stood near Tavistock Square, where her son Anthony is feared to have been killed in last week's bus bombing, and delivered a lament of extraordinary power for her lost son.
Tim Collins, the British army colonel who himself gave a historic speech on the eve of the Iraq war, says such genuine emotion is rarely forgotten Wednesday July 13, 2005.
Caught in the spotlight of history, set on the stage of a very public event, Marie Fatayi-Williams, the mother of Anthony Fatayi-Williams, 26 and missing since Thursday, appeals for news of her son. Her words are a mixture of stirring rhetoric, heartfelt appeal and a stateswoman-like vision, and so speak on many levels to the nation and the world. Her appeal is a simple one - where is my son? If he has been killed, then why? Who has gained?
Marie has found herself, as I did on the eve of the invasion of Iraq, an unwitting voice, speaking amid momentous events. Her appeal, delivered on Monday not far from Tavistock Square, where she fears her son died in the bomb attack on the number 30 bus, gives a verbal form to the whirlpool of emotions that have engulfed society as the result of last week's bombings. I suspect Marie, like myself, had no idea that her words would find such wide recognition, have fed such an acute hunger for explanation, have slaked such a thirst for expression of the sheer horror of Thursday's events.
This kind of speech is normally the preserve of the great orators, statesmen and playwrights, of Shakespeare, Churchill or Lincoln. It is often a single speech, a soliloquy or address from the steps of the gallows, that explains, inspires, exhorts and challenges. But always such addresses are crafted for effect and consciously intended to sway and influence, and often, as in the case of Shakespeare's Henry V, they are set in the mouth of a long dead hero or delivered by wordsmiths who are masters of their craft. It is rare in history that such oratory is the genuine article, springing from the heart and bursting forth to an unwitting audience. In Marie's case, her speech gains its power as a vehicle of grief and loss, and of the angst of a mother who yearns for her beloved son. In my case it was the opposite emotion from which I drew inspiration - an appeal to understand, to empathise, to give courage and purpose. I was motivated by a need to warn and teach as well as to encourage. Marie's motivation is a reflection on loss and that most powerful of all emotions, a mother's love.
The form the address takes is as poignant as the language used. There is an initial explanation of the extraordinary circumstances of the loss, a cri de coeur for the innocent blood lost, a rejection of the act by its comparison to the great liberators, and the assertion that her loss is all our loss in the family of humanity. It ends with her personal grief for her flesh and blood, her hopes and pride. The language echoes verses of the Bible as well as from the Koran. It has raw passion as well as heart-rending pathos.
With only a photograph of her son and a sheet of paper as a prompt, Marie's words burst out with as much emotion as anger. Her speech stands in stark contrast to the pronouncements of politicians, prepared by aides and delivered from copious notes. It is indeed the raw originality and authentic angst that give the delivery such impact, the plea such effect. No knighted veteran of the Royal Shakespeare Company could deliver such an address without hours or even days of rehearsal. I know from my own experience that only momentous events can provoke such a moment, only raw emotion can inspire such a spontaneous plea. I am often asked how long it took me to write my speech, delivered to my regiment, the Royal Irish, on the eve of the invasion of Iraq on March 19 2003 at Fort Blair Mayne camp in the Kuwaiti desert. My answer is simple - not one moment. There was no plan; I spoke without notes. For me there was only the looming spectre of actual warfare and the certainty of loss and killing, and I was speaking to myself as well as to my men. I suspect for Marie there was only the yawning black void of loss, the cavern left behind in her life caused by the loss of a son who can never be replaced.
What, then, can we take from this? Marie's appeal is important as it is momentous. Her words are as free from hatred as they are free from self-interest; it is clear that no man can give her her heart's desire - her son. I was also struck by the quiet dignity of her words, the clarity of her view and the weight of her convictions. She does not condemn, she appeals; her words act as an indictment of all war and violence, not just acts of terror but also the unnecessary aggression of nation states. Her message is simple: here is a human who only wanted to give, to succeed and to make his mother proud. Where is the victory in his death? Where is the progress in his destruction? In her own words: "What inspiration can senseless slaughter provide?"
I am certain that Marie's appeal will go down as one of the great speeches of our new century. It will give comfort to the families and friends of the dead and injured, both of this act and no doubt, regrettably, of events still to come. It should act as a caution to statesmen and leaders, a focus for public grief and, ultimately, as a challenge to, as well as a condemnation of, the perpetrators.
Marie is already an icon of the loss of Thursday July 7. Having travelled from Africa to find a better life, Anthony Fatayi-Williams carried the hopes and pride of his family. Now, as his mother has travelled to London, arguably one of the most cosmopolitan and integrated cities in the world, and standing nearby a wrecked icon of that city, a red double-decker bus, she has made an appeal which is as haunting as it is relevant, as poignant as it is appealing. It is a fact that such oratory as both Marie and I produced is born of momentous events, and inspired by hope and fears in equal measure.
But Marie's appeal is also important on another level. I have long urged soldiers in conflict zones to keep communicating with the population in order to be seen as people - it is easier to kill uniforms than it is to kill people. On July 7 the suicide bombers attacked icons of a society that they hated more than they loved life, the red London bus and the tube. Marie's speech has stressed the real victims' identities. They are all of us.
"This is Anthony, Anthony Fatayi -Williams, 26 years old, he's missing and we fear that he was in the bus explosion ... on Thursday. We don't know. We do know from the witnesses that he left the Northern line in Euston. We know he made a call to his office at Amec at 9.41 from the NW1 area to say he could not make [it] by the tube but he would find alternative means to work.
Since then he has not made any contact with any single person. Now New York, now Madrid, now London. There has been widespread slaughter of innocent people. There have been streams of tears, innocent tears. There have been rivers of blood, innocent blood. Death in the morning, people going to find their livelihood, death in the noontime on the highways and streets.
They are not warriors. Which cause has been served? Certainly not the cause of God, not the cause of Allah because God Almighty only gives life and is full of mercy. Anyone who has been misled, or is being misled to believe that by killing innocent people he or she is serving God should think again because it's not true.Terrorism is not the way, terrorism is not the way. It doesn't beget peace. We can't deliver peace by terrorism, never can we deliver peace by killing people. Throughout history, those people who have changed the world have done so without violence, they have [won] people to their cause through peaceful protest. Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King,
Mahatma Gandhi, their discipline, their self-sacrifice, their conviction made people turn towards them, to follow them. What inspiration can senseless slaughter provide? Death and destruction of young people in their prime as well as old and helpless can never be the foundations for building society.
My son Anthony is my first son, my only son, the head of my family. In African society, we hold on to sons. He has dreams and hopes and I, his mother, must fight to protect them. This is now the fifth day, five days on, and we are waiting to know what happened to him and I, his mother, I need to know what happened to Anthony. His young sisters need to know what happened, his uncles and aunties need to know what happened to Anthony, his father needs to know what happened to Anthony. Millions of my friends back home in Nigeria need to know what happened to Anthony. His friends surrounding me here, who have put this together, need to know what has happened to Anthony. I need to know, I want to protect him. I'm his mother, I will fight till I die to protect him. To protect his values and to protect his memory.
Innocent blood will always cry to God Almighty for reparation. How much blood must be spilled? How many tears shall we cry? How many mothers' hearts must be maimed? My heart is maimed. I pray I will see my son, Anthony. Why? I need to know, Anthony needs to know, Anthony needs to know, so do many others unaccounted for innocent victims, they need to know.
It's time to stop and think. We cannot live in fear because we are surrounded by hatred. Look around us today. Anthony is a Nigerian, born in London, worked in London, he is a world citizen. Here today we have Christians, Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, Hindus, all of us united in love for Anthony. Hatred begets only hatred. It is time to stop this vicious cycle of killing. We must all stand together, for our common humanity. I need to know what happened to my Anthony. He's the love of my life. My first son, my first son, 26. He tells me one day, "Mummy, I don't want to die, I don't want to die. I want to live, I want to take care of you, I will do great things for you, I will look after you, you will see what I will achieve for you. I will make you happy.' And he was making me happy. I am proud of him, I am still very proud of him but I need to now where he is, I need to know what happened to him. I grieve, I am sad, I am distraught, I am destroyed.
He didn't do anything to anybody, he loved everybody so much. If what I hear is true, even when he came out of the underground he was directing people to take buses, to be sure that they were OK. Then he called his office at the same time to tell them he was running late. He was a multi-purpose person, trying to save people, trying to call his office, trying to meet his appointments. What did he then do to deserve this. Where is he, someone tell me, where is he?"
Thursday, July 14, 2005
In memory of you.
They said they were going to Trafalgar Square
But I did not follow them.
"Will you bring me a white dove?'
"We cannot steal any of the birds."
"Why are you not coming?"
"Will she be there?"
They just gazed at me and I felt the tears
Trickling down to my cheeks.
"Oh, Dan. She will..."
"She will not be there. She will never ever be there again. I am not going to ever see her again."
They nodded silently.
The Union Jack has been flying at half mast since last Thursday.
But my sweet memories of you will never go away.
I saw you at Trafalgar Square
The dove perching on my right shoulder
Whispering into my right ear
"Do not fear."
BOMBS, GUNS AND ROSES AND YOU
Today, will be seventh day.
Of the last time I kissed you.
And you said you would see me later in the evening.
And I never saw you again until only last Saturday.
But, you couldn't be the one I kissed?
You were lying in the cold room
Among the others in the row
I was too dumb and numb to utter a word
My tears had become frozen at the chilling sight of you.
I am no longer here, because you have taken me away.
My spirit has taken to flight with you.
Let us fly away to the castles in the clouds
To join the departed souls of our kindred
Let us turn our backs to their world
Because, we don't belong here.
Now, I see them slouching
I see them sobbing and wailing
I see them with their very long faces
Long faces of black and blue grimaces
As they gather at King's Cross.
But, I slip away from them
I will no longer live in fear
In the fear of their fears of bombs and guns
I will not even lay a wreath of roses
Because, this world is no longer for you.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
YOUR LOVE IS EVERYTHING TO ME
Oh, Lord! My God!
You so loved the world
That you gave your only begotten Son
That whosoever believes in Him
Should not perish, but have everlasting life.
For your love surpasses all knowledge.
Your love is everything to me
More than ordinary eyes can see.
For it is your love that wakes me up every morning
When the first cock crows at the break of dawn.
Your love gives me the breath of life
For I live by the grace of love.
What can I do without your love?
Where can I go without your love?
And how can I live without your love?
And how can I be happy without your love?
Your love is everything to me.
Your love makes the sun to rise and shine
And makes the day to be bright
Your love makes the moon to glow
To give us light in the darkness of the night.
Your love makes the stars to twinkle
Your love makes the birds to whistle
Your love makes the winds to blow
Your love makes the rivers to flow
Your love makes the plants to grow
Your love makes the frost and the snow.
Your love is everything to me.
You are my first love and my last love
There is no better love than your love.
There is no deeper love than your love
There is no greater love than your love
There is no higher love than your love
And there is no sweeter love than your love.
As you said that, “Greater love has no man than this”
“For a man to lay down his life for his friends.”
Because, nothing compares to your love
Your love is the greatest love of all.
Your love is everything to me.
BY EKENYERENGOZI MICHAEL CHIMA.DECEMBER, 2004. LAGOS, NIGERIA.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
I give you my life
I give you my heart
Oh, Lord! Even, everything in me
I give all to you.
The above words are the lyrics of an awesome song the Holy Spirit inspired our pastor, Reverend Ikpoko to teach us this morning and we all sang it whole-heartedly as we fellowshipped and worshipped the Almighty God at the Assemblies of God Church in Finima on Bonny Island in Nigeria.
There is no love like the love of God.
As it is written in the Holy Bible, His love surpasses all knowledge.
In any language.
His love increases from age to age.
The love of God is the greatest love of all.
If only we could humble ourselves to love ourselves as God loves us.
There would be no hatred against our fellow human beings.
May the Almighty God help us to love one another as God loves us.
Jesus Christ said, "The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy; I am come that they might have life, and that they have it more abundantly." (JOHN 10:10, KJV HOLY BIBLE.)
Friday, July 08, 2005
Where are you my beloved?
How can I sleep on the bed alone without you by my side?
How can I snore without sniffing the scent of your awesome body?
How can I enjoy this life without your melody?
How can I accept that you are not ever coming home again?
How can I accept that you are gone?
How can I stop weeping?
How can I stop mourning?
Oh, my beloved.
I am afraid to join the others at King's Cross
To lay your favourite "Forget-me-not"
Tied in your favourite knot
With the red and blue ribbons.
I will light a candle for you
But not a candle light in the wind.
It will be the candle light in my heart.
The candle light that will never be put out.
For it will keep on burning in my heart.
The candle light of your spirit.
I gazed at the candle lights at King's Cross
I saw angels descending to kiss our flowers
And I saw you in the midst of the angels
In the midst of the angels in the candle lights in the darkness.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Faces stained with blood
Grimaces of agony
Petrified as they stood
Too numb to bear any acrimony.
The dead in rows
The wounded in pains
The doves can never be crows
No matter how you batter their brains.
Because, we are not born to hate.
In love and peace, we shall continue to sail our ship of state.
Mother England weeps
For her children
Murdered by the demons
And lovely London bears the burden.
I see the red splashes
On the Union Jack flying at half mast.
And I see the wet eyelashes
Of the bereaved mourners.
Oh, beloved London
The pride of the English Crown
Let me wipe away your scarlet tears
The scarlet tears of your bloodshed.
Though you are heart broken
But, you are not forsaken.
Our enemies will not go unpunished
For those who murder the innocent
Shall face their judgement
"Vengeance is mine," says the Lord.
Oh, beloved London
The pride of the English Crown.
From the fire of the crucible
You shall become invincible.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
TO LOVE AND BE LOVED
I saw her yesterday
As she was walking through the narrow path
The narrow path of our village
And my heart was throbbing
I called her name before she turned the corner
Lantana, the beautiful Fulani milk maid.
And she answered me with her beautiful brown eyes
She was greeting me with broad smiles.
Lantana is returning today
She is coming to cook for me.
I bought all the milk in her calabash.
She decided to have lunch with me.
And she did not leave until after we had dinner.
I am so happy.
It is good to love and be loved.
I fell in love.
With a native Fulani maiden
Her name was Aisha.
A beauty to behold.
And her name was always a song on my lips.
A sweet song I sang to myself even in my dreams.
Until, Aisha invited me to her wedding.
Because, whilst I was busy dreaming of Aisha
Another man was busy saving for her bride price.
And that was how I lost Aisha.
Because, dreamers never make good lovers.
Most dreamers are not in love with you
They are in love with their dreams.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
My American Love Child
She was looking so fine.
But we were not in Tennessee
We were walking by the sea
Basking under the sunshine.
We were like Siamese twins
The way we entwined in our arms.
Then, it happened that night
Two hours before her flight.
She wanted it that way
And there was nothing I could say.
We were truly in love.
Even, the sign was in the stars above.
“Oh, Chi. “
We were enraptured in the bliss of our Lollipop
Passions beyond common words of mouth
We whispered the sweetest words below our breath.
She would have missed the plane if we didn’t stop.
Then, yesterday, she sent me the picture
The glints in his eyes remind me of her
The living miracle of Mother Nature
His birthday is tomorrow July 4.
Behold my American Love Child.
BY EKENYERENGOZI MICHAEL CHIMA
SUNDAY JULY3, 2005.
BONNY ISLAND, NIGERIA.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Feoma Mama Came In Silken Tresses
I saw the rainbow in seven colours
The twilight was such a delight to sight.
Feoma Mama came in silken tresses
She came wearing her rose-tinted glasses
Glowing like the eyelashes of the night
With the sheen of the moon.
Her eyes were twin blinking brown balls
With the golden eyelashes of Dawn
Oh, Feoma Mama !
Our love will ascend higher
Reaching for the stars of the universe
And lift us into the bliss of Paradise.
In my painted words
The flowers of our love will blossom
Our love will be like red roses in bloom.
Oh, Feoma Mama !
Even Heaven knows my heart
That I love you.
By Michael Chima Ekenyerengozi
It has been over a decade
Since we met in the arcade
Your silver hair and ivory white teeth
Your flashing smiles full of mirth.
We went to the Museum Kitchen in Onikan
Onikan on the Lagos Island.
Everybody knew you were from another land.
But, only very few knew you were an American.
Such sweet memories linger
From the summer to the winter
And I miss the Granola Bars
Of oats and honey and as delicious as Mars.
You have been gone since 1989
And you are no longer walking with me
Walking with me under the African sunshine
But, I know that someone love me in Tennessee.
If I could
I will do anything for your love
If I could
I will go anywhere for your love
If I could
I will give you heaven on earth
If I could
I will give you the sun and the moon
If I could
I will give you the stars
If I could
I will give you the four winds
If I could
I will give you the seven seas
If I could
I will give you the whole universe
Just to prove and to show you
How much I love you.
Ekenyerengozi Michael Chima.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 2004.
WHERE IS THE LOVE YOU PROMISED ME?
Remember, when you promised me
You will always love me.
That you will not break my heart
That you will not hurt me
And you will never leave me.
But, see how you treat me now?
Oh, oh! Oh, boohoo!
Where is the love you promised me?
Remember, how much you loved me
Remember, your promises and your kisses
Remember, your carnations and your roses.
Remember, how you were asking and begging for my love
Remember, how you were pleading on bended knees.
But, see how you treat me now?
Oh, oh! Oh, boohoo!
Where is the love you promised me?
BY EKENYERENGOZI MICHAEL CHIMA,SUNDAY MAY 8, 2005.
If Roses Could Talk
I held the stalk
Before her angelic face
And I lowered my voice.
As I raised up the Persian Rose
I raised the rose flower to her nose.
And I whispered to her below my breath
I hardly opened my mouth.
Oh, my dearest love
You are God sent to me from above
Words cannot be enough to tell you
How much I truly love you.
If only roses could talk.