The Aftermath of the Coup d’etat of 1980

By Emmanuel G G Yamba

I will say nothing except to
speak of the things I know. I won’t
remain silent in my wounds like
the houses eaten by rockets, the poles
on South Beach holding
the tied dead bodies of government
officials, the blood that became
pool & drowned the head of state.
that very night, Father summoned
us in his bedroom & told us never
to attach our names to any tribe
or never to call our surname to
strangers. In fact, he said, we were
leaving to nowhere. & I remember along
the road, there was nothing to eat.
even if trees were bearing, you
could look at a fruit & never get enticed.
I did not understand the soldiers on the radio,
but they emphasized on
nepotism & corruption & were accused
for the same things by the next government.
& it ended in war. sometimes war
become the longest distance between us
& home, my bicycle hidden in the ceiling
& roaming the yard—it did not allow us
get away with anything.
there were nights when prayers
hitched in our throats because
surviving meant silence & the slightest
sound of your lips could alarm the
bearers of arms. my mother could say
it’s our own hands that made our country
blind. I wonder if the pronoun
“our” applied to me, too, because my
tiny little fingers can not be stretched
to reach the eyes of Africa’s oldest child.

Writer’s Biography
Emmanuel G G Yamba writes from Monrovia, Liberia. He is a graduate of the University of Liberia, College of Science and Technology, with a BSc in Biomedical Science and the Sprinng Advancement Fellowship, learning writing for career advancement. His work appeared and forthcoming in Libretto Magazine, Inkspired, Kalahari Review, Ibadan Art, TVO Tribe, African Writer, Eboquill, Nantygreen, The Light UL, Odd Magazine, WSA, World Guinness Hyper-poem record 2023, Anthology for Abunic and elsewhere. He can be found on IG - @yamba86163.