BAGA on my mind: A year ago, more than 2000 people were killed by Terrorist group Boko Haram in Baga, North-Eastern Nigeria. This year we hear of the Dasuki arms (corruption) ‘yams-sharing’ deal. Hmmmnnn, I’d like to think that I do not wish people evil and yet when a great crime has been committed, (against innocent children, men, women, soldiers), should we not ask ask the heavens to strike all those who benefited from our common wealth?
Should we not fight to ensure they are all held accountable and also face the consequences? I think of the valiant troops we send out there, ill-equipped and unprepared, to save us or to meet their untimely death? I think of all the children, youths, women and men who die daily because of the acts of corruption. When is our silence no longer golden?
When is it no longer okay to siddon on the sidelines dey look? When is it the right time to go from cyber-world and engage the harsh realities in our real world? I am thankful for initiatives like the #BribeCode and EiE Nigeria. For asking the questions. For changing the narrative. For engaging and compelling us to pattern-interrupt and really reflect upon our dire situation and hopefully, inspire us to take empowered, congruent, consistent and relentless action in our own various ways. And maybe, we will slowly build the critical mass we need to change the status quo. #NEVERSETTLE #WECoCREATECHANGE
In the end, maybe, just maybe, WE are the Messiahs we’re waiting for. Random Question: How is it that a nation with churches and mosques in every nook and cranny is so at effect, so powerless and spineless in standing up for the simple things: to love our neighbours as ourselves, to stand for justice and equity, to have the courage to seek, speak and live out our TRUTH? Why the huge dis-connect?
Floetry by JulietKego:
IF I DIE, DO NOT BURY ME IN BAGA
Two, Two hundred or Two thousand?
We debate numbers, carelessly offhand.
In an orgy of violence, in this desolate land,
while children are slaughtered like salah rams
In numbers to rival Bar beach grains of sand
and the zoo masters feed off goats and yams
So if I must die, and die, one day I must
I fear not, either a svelte bomb or a crude dagger
I ask for this one wish; honour my plea in trust
Let me die in far away Paris, not here in Baga
Here sons, now enemies; Boko Haramites.
multiply like an army of fornicating termites
Take me there, far, far away from here.
For here, many the toga of terrorists bear
it is becoming so very hazy for me to really tell
between Dasukis and his many master-devils
A case of who is evil and who is purely evil?
All parties sullied, to darkness their souls did sell
Here, they piss, shit and spit on my grave
In this town I am ignored, cruelly scorned
Take me to France, lay me under Eiffel’s cave
Where I shall be remembered and mourned
by one million souls who’ll remember my face
CNN will call my name from sea to sea
even old Fox will fold me in her cold embrace
while Dokpesi and NTA air Liverpool-Chelsea
matches and owambes; political parties’ campaign
And drink of my blood-filled mixed with champagne
and on my grave they gladly, gleefully dance
Hapless, to deaf ears may I not plaintively cry
for between cowardice and cluelessness, I die
If I die, do not bury me in baga,
take me far, far away from Naija…
(C) Juliet Kego Ume-Onyido