Cry my beloved Kumba: In memory of the massacred children of Kumba



I have decided not to read, nor watch the videos or hear explanations on blame. All I know is that this should never happen again. The 24th of October, my birthday but this year it became the day, children became war campaign tools in my homeland, Cameroon . So I write with tears for them all. 



They were tender, they were full of years.



They were innocent, they were full of dreams.



Look, an 11 year old lies in his own blood.



Look one much younger, maybe he is the son of the Pastor.



What did he do? What did they all do? To merit such an end.



One which we won't even allow our dogs to bear.



All they did was trust. Yes, they trusted.



They trusted you so called Cameroonian government.



They trusted you, so called Ambazonia government.



They trusted your word when you said \"let the children go back to school\".



They trusted your word when you said \"we will ensure no guns go off near schools\".



So what happened to that word? Why the failure to respect it?



Now they lie, in their old blood.



No more will they play football ⚽



No more will they build toy planes ✈



No more will their parents hear their enthusiastic chatting.



You all are to blame.



You let the guns sound.



You let the machete swing.



And now they are gone.



God oh God, heal the pain of the parents.



God oh God, heal the horror of the town.



God oh God, help us bring your Shalom.



So that Never Again, will we see such a thing,



As the massacre of children so young.



 



A poem by Anne-Chantal Besong. 

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