From the comfort of my noxious and bugs-infested cubicle in the heart of the Ijebu Land; I herald!
From the serene and fertile valley of Mount Wologisi to the beauteous and domineering peak of Mount Nimba I sing; from the humble yet faithful source of the amicable St. John River to its fierce but compassionate mouth in Upper Buchanan, again Garnark proclaims aloud the quartet-peace, love, hope and hope along the coastline, atop the hills and mountains; down the plains and valleys of the Grain Coast.
From the sub urban of boisterous Jo’burg to the smiling vegetation of Bloemfontein I’m discernible; from the friendly Robben Island to Pollsmoor with me “the Black Pimpernel” steered the ostracized L’Afrique d’Sud to recognition. O ye Sweet Land of Liberty amongst your infants I dwell….
Was I not crowned when Coretta King chose to offer prayers of forgiveness to the soul who rocked Martin to sleep? I’m proudly concomitant with the Hutus and Tutsis. At my feet battles crumble.
From the stagnate Camp Oru to the extravagant Buduhamus I’ve crusaded; from the somnolent Camp Bosu in the belly of the Guinean forest to the post-mortem Danane I’d manifest on the lips of Liberian. Like the rugged but faithful Old Bridge which connects Dugbor to the Island, I bind the broken cord of brotherhood amongst the boys in the hoods.
Arise! Arise!! O ye loving men, have I not availed myself as an antibiotic for your perennial disease-Malice? O yes from the Diaspora to your coastline and villages I’ve chosen to settle embrace me and experience life. Embrace me O embrace for life.
