Once a peaceful city, Jos

Oh Jos, Oh Jos, you reside on the African continent, in the western part of it.

Your tabernacle is in Nigeria.

You are the pride of the nation. An envy of other cities.

Peaceful as a dove and fresh as an olive tree, tender to look at.

Strangers dwell in you, because nature has made you a home.

A home to evergreen plants, from shrubs to trees, waving their branches in the air.

A home for plains and mountains.

A home with a refreshing breeze that hugs at night and kisses during the day.

You are so full of life, because you are young, you are bright like the rays of the sun.

You are fresh as the colors of the rainbow, until a burst was heard in you. I wish it were a bomb, because after its explosion it will stop, but it is not like that!

Your plains lament and your mountains moan, moan in agony. The voice of the children is heard in your streets and the voice of the mothers who mourn their children.

Your streets are flooded with the dead.

Now you stink more than a rotting dead dog. You, once the pride of the nation!

Who would have done this to you, José?

Who would have turned you around?

Who would have thrown your children to the other parts of the earth?

I am sure he is an enemy, an enemy of your peace, but we will not remain silent for you, José.

We will moan and moan, until the ears of someone more powerful than the enemy, sound to our voice.

And rescue yourself by quieting your enemies, so that peace and joy may be returned to you.