Please tell me Mr. Vote-buying PoliticianHow much do you offer for my vote?A whole bag of rice or just a cup or two?Is it a sack full of empty promises and blatant lies?Or your one night lavished campaign party?Tonight you let me wine and dine for freePlease tell me tomorrow just what will I eat?How much, Mr. Desperate Politician?A few days’ ride in your party pick-up?When the campaign is over then what?Will you give me lift in your fancy car?Or will I have to go back to trekking on footOnce again from Paynesville to Broad Street?How much are you offering Mr. Politician?Don’t tell me just a few lousy dollars.Why, are you that cheap Mr. Politician?Just how did you get your money?How hard did you work, how much did you steal?Did you have to kill to get rich?How many, how loud did they cry?Did you borrow all that money Mr. Politician?How and when will you pay them back?If you buy my vote will you sell it?How much profit will that be Mr. Politician?Will you stay with your party?If you don’t win what will you do?Will you stick around to prove your worth?Or is your plane ticket already in your pocket?What are your principles Mr. Politician?What do you believe in, what do you dream?If I were to sell my vote Mr. Politician,They would cost you a lot more -- your very soul.But you see my vote’s not for sale.Just look around and you’ll understand.Monrovia’s streets are dark and brokenIts desecrated soil washed by the tears of heavenThat connived with the winds of the ocean to concealThe footprints of the devils that once walked hereIn the crevices of the broken tarmac look closelyYou will see specks of my brothers’ bloodThey were slaughtered on these very streetsJust look under those overgrown rubbles beneath the rockThe broken skull of my bosom friend lies there unburied.Deep in the muddy waters beyond Duport RoadYou’ll see the bones of a man, his, wife and children;Scattered in the cold belly of the creepy swamp.One foot of the little girl’s shoes is still lying thereTurn your eyes a little bit to the left sideYou won’t miss the cutlass that mercilessly hackedTheir shivering fleshes as they screamed to be spared;It’s all rusted now and lying there innocentlyYou wouldn’t guess what abominationsIts wielder wrecked on those hapless souls.Are you feeling sad yet Mr. Politician?One last look under the sands of Coconut PlantationYou will see pieces of my sister’s hairOnce beautifully braided but now carelesslyWoven with the rot and dust of time.Her cry for mercy has long been snuffledBy the angry ocean winds but the bulletIs still lodged in the coconut tree nearby.Do you now see why I don’t sell my vote?They’ve long paid for it with their blood,With their last breath of terror and agony.If I should do justice to their memory,I will choose to rise beyond self and mediocrityTo vote for a Liberia different from what we’ve known.My vote is free and I will cast it for Liberia Mr. Politician.Don’t patronize me with your endless smooth answersTell me we, all Liberia, will search for answers together.Don’t only promise to make Liberia live againPlease tell me exactly how hard you hope to try.
And don’t you ever forget what you saw Mr. Politician!
And don’t you ever let it happen again Mr. Politician!