Thursday, September 15, 2016
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Hunting War Criminals
Please help me create #Biafra's 10 MOST WANTED LIST. So far I have #1 Mr BooBoo Buhari, #2 Mrs. BooBoo Buhari pic.twitter.com/kVwidbo9av— Naomi Litvin 🇮🇱 (@nlitvin) September 7, 2016
Friday, September 2, 2016
August 25, 2016: It was my late parent’s wedding anniversary and I found myself on an airplane headed to a family reunion in California. Checking twitter from the airport I saw a tweet from a prominent Biafran to me. It stated, “You are one of us.” In that moment, while missing my parents, and headed to seek comfort in a family reunion, the realization that family can appear at any time without blood relation, comforted me. There is a bond between Biafra and Israel that cannot be denied, which connects me to them. And I believe that because Biafra supports and love Israel, they are being denied the help that they need from world powers.
@nlitvin you are one of us.— Emeka Gift (@EmekaGift) August 25, 2016
Meanwhile, current events related to Biafra Land include John Kerry, Secretary of State of the USA visiting Islamic President Buhari of Nigeria. Initial reports stoked both hope and fear as Biafrans do not trust or like the Obama administration.
Kerry was to address the following topics regarding security and structure of Nigeria with Buhari:
- Insurgency of Boko Haram
- Religious and inter-ethnic chaos
- Activities of of Biafran Niger Delta Freedom Fighters
- Human Rights Abuses
- Corruption in Buhari's government
- Economic disaster
- US aid
Alas, just 48 hours after John Kerry left Nigeria, President Buhari's Federal Government (FG) military began to advance on Biafra Land, slaughtering as they went. A photograph of a murdered, pregnant and disemboweled Biafran woman is circulating on twitter to the horror of all who see it. Rumors that Obama sent Kerry to Nigeria to start a war against Biafra abounded online. Headlines in the Biafra Herald exclaimed:
Then news of an assassination attempt of Biafran leader Nnamdi Kanu who has been held in Kuje Prison in Abuja, Nigeria since October of 2015 hit the airwaves.
BEHOLD THE FACE OF ADAMU KUJEYIN: BUHARI'S HIRED KILLER SENT TO ASSASSINATE NNAMDI KANU IN KUJE PRISON TODAY https://t.co/bXZxeEV5g5
— Nkiruka Nistoran (@NkirukaNistoran) August 29, 2016
If Nnamdi Kanu Leader of IPOB (Indigenous People of Biafra) is killed, there will be a hell unleashed.
@abpnewstv,#NnamdiKanu is the leader of over 70M #Biafrans, we will revolt worldwide if anything happens to him pic.twitter.com/fSKia72k0W
Now it appears that President Buhari has succeeded in taking over most of the media in Nigeria. Much like mainstream media in the USA, Nigerian media is considered without credibility. The Vanguard, once considered an ally of Biafra, is now in the FG's domain and creating hideous news stories that are total fiction.
"The days of pretense and cover up are over, the ugly condition of Nigeria is now laid bare, the people are fed up with Vanguard media lies, the public no longer believe their propaganda, the international communities are now asking questions, Nigeria friends are now breaking treaties, investors are now pulling out, oil companies have all closed down, the well publicized red economy have finally taken stage. Yet the Pharaoh of Nigeria, Muhammadu Buhari defiantly refused to let Great Kanu go in order to save Nigeria these plagues. Perhaps, he is waiting for the tenth catastrophic plague. "
At this moment, as I conclude this brief update a heavy military presence in Biafra Land continues. Stay tuned and follow me on twitter for all the latest at @nlitvin as the drums of war reach a fever pitch.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
I was liberated April 13, 1945. But was I really?
Those who perished are sound asleep. We that survived are condemned to live.
To have my poems published is a dream worth living for. Only then will I rest my soul. Only then I’ll know why I of all have survived.
Please G-d; remember me as you have forgotten my family. Grant me this wish that I may build a tower in Heaven for the martyrs. Please!
April 13, 1979
As I raced toward the edge of the world in a runaway train
You plucked me from empty caverns of unspace
And then I was born
Eighteen months after my dear mother left this physical world I struggle with a multitude of brimming boxes of her journals, poems, original music, drawings, photographs, cassette tapes, movie reviews, and other miscellanea.
She was prolific, that is for sure. She sought to be recognized for her talent. I wonder if these physical goods are symbolic of my emotional struggle. I can’t seem to move on with my life. Or I should say that all of my valiant attempts to move on seem to pale next to the huge emotional cloud bogging me down. I feel as though I am in quicksand, if I move forward just a bit, I will be sucked into an abyss of wet concrete.
I know this is craziness; she wanted me to have a good life and be happy. I feel comfort but also the duality of desperation as I still live in our house, sleep in her bed, and wear her t-shirts and wonder what I am without her.
I can smell her perfume, the Nina Ricci she loved so much. And her Jean Nate bath powder. Those two items were as important to her as food.
She is gone. But is she? If I publish her work, read her lines, see her pictures, and hear her voice I am able to go on living without her. This is as important to me as food.
That is what this book is about. Her, always her. And me, moving on without her, but keeping her close, too. This book fulfills a promise I made to her. There is a post-it note on a picture in my room that I look at each night before I turn off the light and each morning as I get up. It says:
“My Love My darling Naomi…
Good luck with the book. The second one I mean.
Forever Yours, Editke”
I can’t let go until I do this. And so I present to the world my favorites of her poems and family photos. As I set her words into motion once again, it is unbearable for me to think of her as bones in a grave. So I must set her free, in that way that her freedom meant so very much to her, with pen and paper.
After each of her poems I will write something. What it means to me, what it might mean to anyone that may read it. And what it meant to her? That will remain a mystery and something for you, the reader, to speculate.