The 4th of July to Us

By Biko Agozino

To us the 4th of July is a grave day
Mother’s kindred had bottomless bellies
Gallons of palm wine were emptied
Cartons of beer followed to energize them
Still they demanded a gallon of ogogoro
And packets of okpoko fire smoke
To dig deeper or they would go on strike
Our kindred banned push-me-I-push-you,
We said no to the cancer sticks: no give no take
Cows were led to their silent slaughter
Giant pots cooked and emptied and cooked
Mother’s kin struck rocks and quit the dig
The visiting ogene gong players jumped in
And dug further to six feet on the 4th of July
Our brave mother was laid into the dust

By Father Titus who officially fixed the date
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost
Drinks flowed like our ancestral Omala stream
Bricks of akpu were laid into hollow foundations
And we danced the dance of shamelessness
When you fire shooting stars into the night on 7/4

They scream Uwawa, Mba, Ekwevokwe m, No-No!
Look up and see the twinkle of the Southern Cross
Watching over our homestead from the sky
As we celebrate we also mourn on the 4th

There is no independence from mother earth
Rivers wept for mother never flood the belly