The vicious agony for power and blood diamonds

A book written and illustrated by Sahr G.M.P. Fania

The vicious agony for power and blood diamonds

Written out of the findings of the Hurrarc members and the patient and objective documentations of the gross human rights abuses and violations, or crimes against humanity committed by all the factions and combatants, during the decade long civil war in Sierra Leone from March 23rd 1991, to January 18th 2002.

Dedicated to the youths, the children and those yet unborn, for them to know that the guns and bombs are not the solutions to our socio–political and economic problems.

That the only way out is: the psychological emancipation of the psyche and the mentalities.

… afterwards, we saw foreign Mercenaries and Gun Runners behind them, who aided and  abetted them, by supplying those Arms, Narcotic Drugs, Other Military Equipment and  Logistics for the Blood Diamonds.  While lions used them to tear their own very people, just for  them to attain riches and consolidate power.  The face of the war then turned it ugly face like  Janus, the Greeks god of Fortunes from Revolutions to:  The vicious Agony for Power and Blood Diamonds.

Of owls and bats were no more; the night of the morning
Became silent with spiteful horror sensed at far with shocks
And fears greeted with silent moment
The aura doomed with panics and pangs.
Leaving in four apartments of long adjourning with rooms
And parlours each; a square land with no perimeter fence.

Shaggily awoken with brothers in a bedroom parlour from the bed mat in the east of horror brothers! Move on! Move on brothers the morning
Came no more as it was, horror is here today with giants boots, with the militia friends
Doomed with smoke; Wellington blissfully wrapped with chaos of signals with abnormal heats of sounds from the militia graft us from a deep sleep of slumbering;
The morning was sad and strange with the sun slept not to wake no more with its
Shining like a golden colour glittering like an ankle arm
Friends of the militia greeted the morning with heart breaks of boom! Boom!
Birds of bullets flying the air with hot heats of fragments hunting lives and
Properties; homeless we are!

The brunt of burning houses swept all like ants walk, with questions asked for settlements.
Blood washes ferociously with corps buried corps with no sermon officiated
By clergies; dust to dust, ash to ash, now flesh to flesh, blood to blood dogs sympathised with fleshes buried in flesh with flies singing
Corps which fleshes buried in flesh of blood, mourn by maggots
Fried arms with hot lead of oil pains the heart; amputated limbs with profuse blood
Left in no use; refuge in a swampy island left feet with scars
Of wounds; thy feet step in marks faster than Robert in a swampy sandy quick land.
Feet in mud of boots like matching as to war in battalion.

Deployment in the forest land in cold rough atmosphere with monsoon unexpectedly came in horror times of the bullet birds in an island of warriors
The night came gently in a moment of reservation; with all tribes
Praying for sanity and comfort, Nine days jungle with no food left faces
Shrink and shrunk sounds of the militia friends came in chaos in confusion
With no hiding place left; the last straw that struck the camel’s back
With a pampa board boat that profusely hosing out water in danger
Prayers raining down like termites strike from wood it all anchored well

The noisy city of Freetown became calm; safer as we are. The thirst
For power envisaged horror for sparkling stones with blood;
Exchange for arms that killed innocent souls of our land
A war senselessly fought in a decade of horror, has left tears to rain
Down homes, bodies rot, soul gone justice came to seek justice
In a special court try them for their acts of horror and burry them
With justice, but we still mourn the departed God bless this land
Tears no more but we mourn to be mourning for scars
Which can’t be wipe

by Mohamed Thoronka

O great World of the World to me of a name in great history
Barack Obama African-American a name in great history
Of the World; the sad days of human activists of a non dying,
Dream of prophesy for two scores live in history. A-r unable trail
For the White House concerns all; a vanquish earth of heart,
Concede him defeat in the trail to the House.

A most civil right leader gone asleep; with assassinated blood;
Martin Luther King (Jnr) a dream; now a dream of prophesy,
Strings of tears raining hearts and eyes of Africa; by hedge-win,
Four fifteen concede defeat; Africa holds the World to no utmost
Surprise when glows for power flare to the White House; whiter than
The snow; now black house of Barrack; blacker than Africa
My Africa! My treasure! Our treasure! The passion of the World

A day that needs borrow of the White House to Africa
What race best become of them? And what colour? It has foretell
The high cause of liberation of Africa to mark new era of leadership
In the white man’s parlour; as virtuosi racists pass mildly away,
A giant leaps to the seat of all honour to the world. That welcome
Hour ends the racism of a vanquish moment. A faithful heart of tender
Has never broken in vain: to tell the story; to all strive and never!
Never! Give up in any glow of positive strive for achievement successes

by Mohamed Thoronka

All are one Africans and none is none

Oh racism!
You defeated disgracing grace of history of yore,
Still a modern threatening disgracing mystery of all misery.
Still, you do not exist in Creation, but in colour’s psyche!
So don’t therefore look upon I and I with colour’s psyche
nor the colour and geography that divided us from yore.
For all are one Africans and none is none.

By Sahr GMP Fania