A Wail For My Country’s Helplessness
By Bishop Kortu K. Brown
[1] Out there on the West Coast of Africa amid terrible birth pangs,
You were established by your descendants who returned to this coast
After years of captivity in the so-called White man’s land
Your ancestries also acting as midwives ostracized their fellow compatriots
Whom they met in this open field because of fear and revenge for the years
Of servitude they were subjected to from their sale to their slavery
[2] Consequently, your offspring were more focused on
how they could dominate one another instead of taking good care of you.
They plotted and directed their energies towards promoting discords
They called one another names like “Country” and “Congo”
They pursued a national discourse without a well-defined strategy
On how they would develop and prosper
When they spoke about the enemy they meant their comrades
And not the myriad of obstacles that confronted them
[3] Right from the beginning of your conception
There was hunger, poverty and a lack of infrastructure
Around you were your neighbors struggling to tear apart your dwelling
Out of your original 163,000 sq. miles of land size reported
Your progenies could only retain about 43,000 sq. miles
Stretching from what we now know as Cape Mount to Cape Palmas
[4] Even in the approximately 33% of your land space left
They fought to silence one another
They suppressed freedom of speech, of press and individual liberties
For one hundred and ten years one group ruled you
They felt superior to your other children
When they asked them to allow others participate in taking care of you
They arrested them, failed them and made laws to counteract them
[5] Then something violent happened that would send shockwaves beyond your land
17 enlisted men driven by external forces seized your land
They brought charges against your managers and executed some
Charges that were fantastically carved but difficult for themselves to resist
Some of your children were shocked while many rejoiced
They sang and danced in the streets as they were promised
That the era of exploiting you through rampant corruption was over
[6] Consequently, in a few years, hell broke loosed
Your children were out there this time in the bushes
They were running after people who they say were responsible
For the promotion of corruption, hunger and poverty in your land
They however raped and pillaged your land, killed and maimed one another
One meeting after another they argued about who could better take care of you
Finally, they settled down in your Sister’s place formerly called the Gold Coast
Where they swear to make peace and take better care of you
[7] About 20 years later the oldest mom in the black people home is still hungry
She’s still sleeping in darkness because your children are not able to run their own light
All around your place is still dirty because your children are not able to sweep your place
And throw the dirt away so that mosquitoes will not hurt them
The offices they set up to take care of you are basically not effectively running
If your children stay long at work then they are arguing or on social media
any of your children are still poor and even without food to eat
Because the few who manage you only mostly care about themselves
[8] O, Liberia, the troubled mother! How long will you bleed and stay hopeless?
How long will your careless children forsake you and go to stay in other people’s places?
How long will they show that they are not even able to organize themselves to help you?
How long will they just vote for anyone to manage you even if the person is not able?
How long will they go all around just begging as if that’s the only solution to your problems
when they can’t properly manage the small money they get from you?
When the politics of division undermine the daily efforts to make you a better place
[9] O, Liberia, the troubled mother!
I pray today that God will not forsake you
I pray that God will look down with pity and help you
Because you have suffered too long
Due to the carelessness of your children
Who, all they know is to talk “big-mouth talk”, every day
To boost about the book they know and the places they’ve been
But unable to show what they do to improve your land
O Liberia, the troubled mother:
MAY GOD BLESS AND HEAL YOUR LAND TODAY!
