Mourners Turn Builders By Abiola Akintunde

I stare into the future and agony is what I behold,
Not from what to befall us and our children;
But from what befell us because of the present.
It is only those that are gifted,
That can see this cloud of tears ready to rain down,
For they are humans that love liberty and prosperity.
So much is happening that we are lost,
Thinking we get a grasp of them all,
For we talk about it as if there is nothing more to talk about,
But we do nothing about it only to convince ourselves,
By confusing ourselves that it’s morally wrong,
To impugn the government for suffering it’s people,
That we will only imbibe abomination,
For trying to do something about these events,
And we can be said to have incited people against Nigeria,
Locking us up in prison for being patriotic;
The price paid being 7 years or 5 million.
As they commit crime against humanity,
Justifying it with national security being at stake,
Only for the people to burn at the stake.
In our cowardice we bask and seek solace,
Uncomfortable we are but we say otherwise,
The fight for freedom is the drum beaten;
Yet we dance in patience the tolerance style,
Pretence we become, submerged in our thoughts with it.
While we retreat to activities only to live in rumbles,
Insatiably we become at the dining each day,
As we struggle to get our belly satisfied,
And all we had done without knowing:
Is mistaking achievements for activities,
Thoughts for deeds and anger for efforts.

Oh! Our heroes, I seek thee this day,
For I wonder in wonders that are not of attractions;
But those that ‘re of the nomenclature of disasters.
Though it resembles delusion but it’s our reality,
Hoping you ‘ll reveal to me tis never part of plan,
That our nation shou’d thrive but wallow in poverty.
You never rest till the enslavers left our land,
Only to deliver us from the grasp of servitude:
Where unhappiness was our wrapper;
Prosperity was far from our reach nor on our path;
And our suffering is an unending challenge;
Our freedom was to work day and night like a slave,
Labour on a fertile land for a robust harvest,
But reaped as if the land was barren;
Cos our harvest were being expatriated.
The farmer found nothing to feast on,
And the butcher couldn’t have the dog’s bone,
Your deeds are like the bark of a furious and raging dog,
That it droves them all away.
Yes! You drove the oyinbos all away,
But servitude is still our lot,
Our harvest not being expatriated again,
But looted and invested in foreign economy,
By those that govern us without our consent,
For they call us to the polls,
Only for us to legalise their illegality.

But here we are today without identity,
Oppressed by our very brethren,
Suppressed by their deeds and cruelty,
We are no longer secured and we are left out in the cold;
Without the gift of a wrapper,
Just to keep mosquitoes at bay,
And so we sneeze and catch cold,
Shivering we are as the thermometer broke,
Feverish we become as hunger approach without sympathy,
Shelter has became luxury and dignity debased,
Our ambitions can no longer hold their sway,
So we live just to see day pass after day,
And so did the years went by without meaning.
Tis just business as usual as it is on the broad street,
We hope earnestly for a drop of change;
Without a throat thirsty for this change,
We ask for a plate of freedom;
Yet without a belly that craves for liberty,
And so we fold our hands expecting a miracle.
We go to church and mosque praying for a change,
Forgotten that the law is work and then pray,
So we wait in vain in our own stupidity,
Only for our oppressors to prepare us a recipe;
With increasing fragrance from ’67 till now,
Of over-fermented undiluted vinegar,
Screaming abandonment and poverty aloud,
As if it was some kind of national anthem.
Yet they eat and sleep in affluence,
And making available job for those who can sell their soul,
A job to present them as facade for all to see,
Avengers of the ruling class and attackers they are,
Scaring away the few that plead with liberty,
To grace our land and unclad us from oppression.

This happenings that appalls us grossly I say,
Surely has so many tentacles that it becomes our nightmare:
Morality has walked out without prior notification,
Humanity lost in sands of survival struggle,
Indiscipline is the appointed time keeper,
Corruption is the umpire of this very game,
Unaccountability our greatest adversary.
Evidently, we groan in this game of governance,
As if our burden of suffering will have pity,
Government has turned caskets celebrated,
Public office holders are the very undertakers,
Our nation; Nigeria, the one to be laid to rest.
We walk in burial procession mourning and grumbling,
Though some of us are exception to the procession;
Advocating and agitating for a change of mind,
Never to mourn but to build and so we succeed,
Thus these few decided not to mourn,
Only to send the undertakers packing,
Throwing them out of work for ressucitators,
Bringing back the dead to life is their mission.
Dismantling the casket to build shelter,
Liberty being our food and positive change our drink of choice,
Saddled with the responsibility to share with others,
And so a theatre of magic is constructed;
Presenting a procession of mourners as builders,
Mourning not being our occupation anymore,
Only to stop the agony I stared into.

There will be a change in our culture:
For morality will become our new parrot,
Humanism our very essence,
Discipline our self-made wrist watch,
Corruption beheaded at the guillotine,
Accountability being our very soul;
Our differences cherished and respected,
As the bonds that exist between us,
Joining us together as one but not to divide,
Our test of strenght hidden in the power of the bond.
Freedom will be the very oxygen we breathe in,
But not that which might and power is everything,
For compassion and love is it’s language.
Our land will be home to earnest pursuit of happiness,
As we walk no more in fear of tomorrow,
But in courage to continue to build one;
Where our children we never know fear nor doubt,
One which no one will be greater than the other,
Influences will be channeled towards national growth,
Underdevelopment will become our past,
Development shall become the present continuous,
And prosperity for all shall be ensured.

The writer is on twitter as @AAbiolat

About the author


In the beginning...Let there be Light

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