Poem: Coat of Arms

As I sat down at the edge of a gutter at my Local Government Area in response to a text for the recruitment of Adhoc staffs toward the election, I was sad. I saw more than 1,000 youths all kept under the sun for over six hours. I observed youths forming cliques, sharing their different experiences in their quest for survival. It dawned on me that our country is in bad shape: what people do to earn a living, how youths are being used and treated like slaves in a free country, and how they can do anything to earn a living damming the consequences. As I observed, heard, and imagined, I wrote the below poem.

It was a glorious day as we filled the streets with flags…
The dawn of 1960, slaves pulled off their price tags….
We felt so much joy, experiencing the relief of independence…
Tafawa Balewa square was filled having everyone in attendance…
The shackles were broken, the chains were opened…
We were free and allowed to swim in any part of the ocean…
Black to Black, we were left to fend for one another…
With similar genes, who would think we would turn on each other…
The labour of our Heroes shall never be futile…
And now I look back and wonder if it was worthwhile…
From one form of bondage inflicted on us by people of a different race…
To another form of slavery by men of our kind, a shared display of disgrace…
Our heroes served selflessly even to the shedding of blood…
Instead of walking in that light, some choose to be treated like gods…
From the secondary school bully to the military officer…
This sense of superiority just like the slave traders…
The young trying to survive, being abused by the aged…
From schools to government agencies, it goes on at every stage…
Politicians have no regard for their masses…
Going as far as raising thugs, distributing guns and cutlasses…
They’re desperate for power forgetting their place of service…
Dividing a nation built on the foundation of freedom, unity, and peace…
Every day we see this dividing wall…
Tribalism, religion — no one cares if the other falls…
And toward election campaigns, posters, and banners…
All a display of greed, no one wants to be the reformer…
At times like this, we miss the Azikiwes and Muritalas…
The selfless servers, the Ghandis and the Mandelas…
And before you judge, take a look at your reflection…
Electoral officers, civil servants, teachers, and Religious leaders — different levels of corruption…
Before you take that bribe, inflate that figure, pull that trigger, or deceitfully make your gain….
Remember the anthem: to build a nation where peace and justice shall reign.