Othello Weh

OUR EYES ARE OPENED

We were blinded with cataracts
Walking with canes
Shackled in chains
Suffering much on the continent
Till the egg of democracy burst 

We were blindfolded with mist
Our hands in their hands
Carrying us where ever they wished
Concealing truth, justice, fair play
Till the kinjah of democracy scattered

Our eyes are opened
We have been subjugated by our own blood
We have been peppered by our own children
Throwing stones and hiding their hands
With our hands in their hands
Till the gourds of democracy dumped 

Our eyes are opened
We read the writing on the walls
We know the drummers and the dancers
We know the patriots and the sycophants
For the egg of democracy burst.

Our eyes are opened
We want new independence
To free us from the abject poverty
To free us from the diseases
To free us from the liberators
Since democracy has come

O African Gods
Our eyes are opened
We have eaten the fruits
We have seen our nakedness
Our destiny in our hands
We can not go back
If we live we die
If we die we live
If we die we die
But we have no fear
So give us our share.

 

OUR VOICES HAVE CHANGED

We sang yesterday
A song of victory
A song at Addis Ababa
Singing la-la-la
Laughing ha-ha-ha
Holding up together
Singing the freedom song
Then our voices changed 

We fought for our rights
We stood our grounds
We fought across the continent
We fought in Soweto
We sang Biko’s song
We sang Nkrumah’s song
We sang Mandela’s song
We sang la-la-la
And cried ho-ho-ho
But our voices have changed 

We fought in unison
Speaking with one voice
We fought colonialism
We fought imperialism
We fought apartheid
Shoulder to shoulder
Neck to neck
We fought our enemies
And sang the victory song
We sang la-la-la
We yelled ho-ho-ho
But our voices have changed 

O let’s come back
Under the palaver hut
To sort our differences
Our children are dying
Our blood is wasting
Our mothers are weeping
Our enemies are laughing
Laughing ha-ha-ha
Shouting he-he-he
Let’s change our voices
And sing a new song.

 

PROVIDENCE BAPTIST CHURCH

Thou little great church
Still standing strong on this hill
On this antique porch
J.J. Roberts signed the bill
Thou art a shrine now
Among the buildings in Christopolis
This young generation doesn’t know how
Thou played thy part in the heroic list
Oh, the hands that wrought thee are cold
But thou art still warm
These young people don’t know
Their hands in blood in the court of arms
Can I ask thee one question please
Where is the document that was signed
Where is the Declaration of Independence
Is it intact as designed
Was it taken away by the stars
Was it torn apart by the storm
Oh, tears have soaked our eyes
And everyday we moan
Oh, plead with our Lord
Like glue we may hold
We are soft like a child in the stable
God help us; to be stable.

Copyright © 2008 Othello Weh