Mama! Mama!! Mama!!!
Around the cotton tree
At our empty national museum
With just a little or nothing to show
I walked past the artwork of Sir Milton Margai
Designed by one of your sons who still struggle
I can see, feel the tears and pain in his eyes
Don’t even know when last we clean his grave
History about them, our elders didn’t teach us
Hence, we don’t know who to honour or celebrate
The scars on mama show nothing has been done
Why then should we ask for our history or clean Graves?
Minerals! Minerals! Minerals!
Sons and daughters bluff we have
Forgetting that our land they destroyed
Putting down our mountains and once beautiful Kono
To place that fuelled the war to destroy thee
Gbonda, Kamara, Bah, Foryoh, Turay, Koroma,
Jalloh, Jah, Kamuskay,Conteh all ask
Where is the Factory?
I know, if you had the chance to ask your
Sons and daughters, it could have been.
Why the cotton tree burned?
Why does my grandson have to change his surname?
Why the bloodshed to make me?
Why the court is just for the rich?
Why those who celebrate me are
But those who eat from me
Why are my children asking about our port
Sold to the Chinese?
Why hate are all those in opposition?
Why my very beaches, you gave to foreigners?
Where are my sons and daughters?
My children and grandchildren, who seek refuge overseas?
Aren’t they grown now to come to beautify me?
Why my history has not been preserved?
Why the only place to live is in my heart (Freetown)
Why those who see the best of me
Are those who sit and feed on me (offices)
Why should my grandchildren travel overseas
Never want to come back till they are 50?
Why is why still the why is a question those who want to rip from us ask?
Mama: please know, we are all not in support.
But for the few of us that live, knowing you are crying
Join the hypocrites to wish you
HAPPY INDEPENDENCE CELEBRATION MAMA
When the true emancipation comes
We shall celebrate you, for now.
This is all your son has to say.