Ode To My Fatherland at 63!

By Adeola Adejokun

Oh, Nigeria at 63, you’re the life of the African party – no doubt,
From colonial times, when you were figuring things out.
You shouted “Independence!” and the Brits said, “Fine, you’re free,”
But freedom came with manuals your privileged heirs never bothered to see.

You’re like wine – well, more like palm wine in a gourd,
A bit tangy at the sip, but later, universally adored.
You’ve got quirks – blackouts, potholes, traffic galore,
But hey, who needs electricity when you’re never a bore?

“Oil-rich,” you say as if it’s your only feat,
Forget that! You’re also the undisputed land of swag and talents.
You prefer “Giant of Africa” – a tagline some find grand,
But you know deep down, you’re trying to be Dawid or Daud.

Young and restless, your youth are your secret sauce,
Exporting talent faster than you can flip a coin toss.
You send out doctors, engineers, stars that shine bright,
But back home, it’s, “Who needs locals? Bring in the expat, right?”

You’re Egusi Oloshiki in a world of bland meals,
Your culture’s the spice – what a big deal Odu Ifa is offshore!
From Nollywood to Afrobeats, you’ve got rhythm, you’ve got flow,
While the rest of the world is still stuck on slow-mo.

So here’s to you, ageing gracefully like Oranmiyan’s staff,
Full of zest, surprises, and the occasional troubles.
At 63, you’re still the rookie with seasoned flair,
A paradox, a riddle, an unanswered trivia in a feisty game of truth or dare.

So raise your glass of Emu Oguro, sons and daughters of my fatherland
Let’s toast to our tale, a saga not of perfection but one that will still thrill.
Nigeria, at 63, you’re still the promise yet to be kept,
A dream in the making while your doubters overslept.

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