OKOROHA LEROY
My people of Abba,
I call to you with the pulse of our shared blood,
with the memory of our roots.
Behold the warriors of Abam!
Once they marched with blades,
their bodies glistening like steel in the sun,
their feathers and raffia alive in the wind.
They bore the sacred wooden heads,
and the earth trembled with Ikpirikpi Ogu—
the War Dance of our ancestors.
Then, it was battle.
Now, it is remembrance.
No longer the slash of machetes,
but the rhythm of drums.
No longer the lion’s roar of war,
but the laughter of festivals,
the beauty of heritage reborn in dance.
Uburu Uru Ogu, our primogenitor,
sprang from the warrior hills of Abam.
He brought their fierce legacy to plant our lineage.
That blood of resilience flows in us still—
but now it flows through music,
through carved heads raised high,
through costumes bright with feathers and beads.
Today, Ikpirikpi Ogu is no cry for battle.
It is the art of survival made joy,
the strength of warriors transformed into play,
a mirror of who we were,
and a celebration of who we are.
Oh Abba, let us gather again!
Let the youth dance in raffia,
let the elders smile with pride,
let the mothers adorn their children in beads.
Raise the carved heads,
strike the drums,
let the festival thunder once more.
For we are not imitators—
we are heirs to a living tradition.
What was once war is now wonder.
What was once survival is now celebration.
So dance, my people!
Dance the Ikpirikpi Ogu!
Let it blaze not as battle,
but as entertainment,
as heritage,
as joy.