The Victims Poem by Tony Adah

We woke up one day
Wiped the smudges from our eyes,
Saw the rising sun
This earth, part of our ancestral heritage
Started germinating frame works of iron
Far offshore and onshore
They looked like our stilted houses
Of wood they were not made
It was for our own good
They told us.

Suddenly, vegetation began to give way
Streams and rivers began to wear
A thick blanket of liquid gold
The fish all came afloat with stink
The land gradually going.

Soon the pangs of hunger pierced
We rose up with our frail voices
And the multinationals hummed
Our brothers like lions roared
The land is gone, commandeered
We the owners are weaponized
Against ourselves, a ruse to harvest
What the land beholds within
A novelty discovery has metamorphosed
Into nuisance
And we are the victims.