I am the Nigerian Story

I am the Nigerian Story
I wear my rags with temporary joy;

Especially when joined with other children as we push car, of tins, sticks and ropes;

Quite unsure of my next meal or what gift the future unwraps;

I am the child once greeted with shouts and laughter, dancing, feasting, loads of prayers heaped on my little shoulders and called “leader”;

If tomorrow ever comes, but tomorrow never came…;

I am that Nigerian Story

I became the man unwilling yet struggling to fit, taught to stand out;

I was the child with grins and dreams, talents and virtues, now I stand in places of trade buying not the intended;

I am sitting in an office judged by the content of my paper rather than the contents of my tray;

Stomaching scars and abuse;

And the owls judge when I take a bow, rub out a man or break my vow…;

I am the Nigerian Story

I survive a society where I’m classified as and treated as class demands;

Walking on eggshells as Lady Justice is blind, her blindfolds unnecessary, her scale a plate for coins and her sword a selfie stick;

An irony the enforcers are labelled as ‘friends’… friends of your notes;

Living in the society where hate speeches and jabs are applauded;

Violence hidden in a hijab and preached by our youths and engineered by the “godfathers”.

I am the Nigerian Story

I am the man whose votes never counts but counted as a vote;

Whose ideas are not the magic to make ends meet with endless solitude amidst the multitudes absorbed in deep thinking and self pity;

I am the man whose well of suffering never diminishes;

Malnourished from food and ideas;

I am the man whose strength and hopes never diminishes;

I was the child whose smiles never ceased with unending dreams, daydreams and nightmares;

I am the common Nigerian Story.

By Agorye Julie-ann

4 Comments

  1. Maura chris June 15, 2018
  2. Mathwillis June 17, 2018
    • admin June 17, 2018

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