We Don Tire
I must have been about thirteen when a member of our church was killed by a soldier. I'd been living in Nigeria for a few years by then, and was no stranger to death. Or violence, poverty, and the sheer recklessness that comes with knowing there might not be a tomorrow.
A relatively young man, he'd studied in that other pseudo land-of-promise, once heralded as God's own country, but now mired in controversies so deep and dark, it couldn't smell the nard for the manure.
But I digress. Armed with two degrees, a charming wife, and two delightful children, he’d come home to put his hand to the plough and help build his land of birth into a great nation.
On his way to service that Sunday morning, he inadvertently cut across the path of a military convoy. No sirens or beacons indicated their ‘unbreakable’ bond, so he made a left turn which separated them from each other, and him from his life.
It's been that many years, I shouldn't remember the details, but I do. Disbelief on the faces of elders. Fear on the faces of the wives of his peers The blank expressions of his widow and children as they played and replayed his death scene in their minds...
Death came within touching distance of our collective cocoon of relative wealth, privilege and uber-confidence. Whoever said violent death was preserved for the bad guys was a big bad liar. I looked into the abyss and haven't been able to banish the image of the chaos within since. The chasm widens daily, camouflage and cover-up inextricably linked.
It’s ironic that I grew up with acronyms as wildly different as SWALK (twee) and SNAFU (strangely apt right now!), but SARS is a crazy combo of disaster and doom. The ‘why’ of it raised eyebrows when it was formed; and even when it later ended up twinning with Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, it didn’t at all feel inappropriate. I couldn’t have written better copy if I’d worked for Sterling Cooper.
Do we laugh at the absurdity of knowing that even in a country with pot-holed roads patrolled by unserviceable tankers and no regard for pedestrians, one is more likely to lose one's life at the hands of a trigger-happy fool in uniform?
Or do we cry knowing that instead of breaking the chains of colonialism and loosening the suffocating bonds of traditionalism, we have simply exchanged one shackle for another?
The big question is, would Fela have had to rewrite 'Zombie'? Or is it as accurate now as it was then; albeit in an altogether more sinister way? Na di person wey dey shout "go" "come" get agenda. How are we any better than the nations where people get killed for being black? We are 100% melanin - bleachers excluded, of course – and still we get killed just for being. That's cold.
Hapless victims – sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, bothers, sisters, friends - we see you. Even if the autocrats do not, we see you, and we will not forget... ● Emmanuel Egbo ● Godgift Fergus Ekerete ● Tony Oruama ● Harry Ataria ● Mbakwe Oruama ● Daniel Adewuyi Tella ● Chika Ibeku ● Gabriel Ejoor Owoicho ● Precious Odua ● Johnson Nnaemeka ● Christian Onuigbo ● Modebayo Awosika ● Peter Ofurum ● Linda Igwetu ● Chinedu Ani ● Chukwuemeka Matthew Onovo ● Steven Agbanyim ● Chidi Odinauwa ● Iloanya Chijioke John ● Tiamiyu Kazeem ● Tina Ezekwe ● Chibuike Daniel Ikeaguchi ● Kolade Johnson ● Matthew Onovo ● Mus'ab Sammani ● Chima ● Ifeoma Abugu ● Ayomide Taiwo ● Ogah Jumbo... ...an endless tally of destruction: broken dreams and hope aborted.
But God does not forget.
Meanwhile, Oga Chief of Police, it is time for an addendum to that dated ritual: “Hold arm! Dismiss!" For every repressive and death-dealing armed force, especially the Special Anti-Robbery Squad, we beg leave to add, "FADE PERMANENTLY INTO OBLIVION."