To My Fatherland: Ambazonia

There was never a land sweeter than Bamenda Nor a land so full of honey: Buea Full of a consanguineous race A people garnished by love and commensurateness A people though battered to smithereens Never for once have cast adrift their rectitude There was never a land so full of stoicism like Bamenda Though maimed, have never wept Though battered, have never laid low Though shot, have never remained obeisant But have always stood up when though dead, To beat her chest and shout, “I AM BAMENDA” There was never a land so cherished like Southern Cameroons That for freedom’s sake Anglophones would joyfully forfeit their lives And just as richly put by G.N Gwangwa’a “If an Anglophone should die,” Then let him die fighting Preach these in the streets of Yaoundé And let it be sung in the halls in Douala That there was never a proud race like the oppressed Anglophones Who for freedom’s sake, Would willingly lay down their lives There was never a land so blessed like Ambazonia Where milk and honey flows; Never a people so conscious of equality And while the white and blue flag waves from Buea Mountain Anglophones embrace freedom. Temajung Michael T. [B.A]