Young Writers Society

JUJU

WARNING: This article contains strong language and is not suitable for readers younger than 16.

This is for my sisters; the one’s taken away by agents of terror. #Bringbackourgirls #PrayforNigeria

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Somebody pray for me………

“Pray for the souls of those we have lost in the insurgency going on in the north. Let’s stand for a minute of silence going out to the people, especially the children, who lost their lives. We can only hope that the girls who were kidnapped would be found and returned to their families safely.”

Every time I see myself, I dey feel like say na Juju dey worry me………

My son is gone,

My daughter is gone,

My husband is gone,

My father is gone,

My mother is gone,

I lost my siblings,

I lost my relations,

We lost them all.

But here I am………

I no fit explain every thing, I dey feel what I feel like mumu dey worry me………

We don’t know if this is religious,

We don’t know if this is political,

We heard it could be agricultural,

We don’t know.

But then again, what do we know?

I no fit chop food drop plate, can’t even ball ‘cause these haters try to deflate………

Fear lurks at every nook

Hate graces every cranny.

But that’s bullshit, Me, I’m on some new shit…………

It so happens that my pot of tears is dry. I have mourned and I am strong. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but why do I feel so weak?

NO!

NO!

I am not weak. For in what they call weakness, I find strength, strength in my conscience; strength to ask for a change.

NO!

Not ask, DEMAND!

I want a change; I’m fed up of loosing, I want to win. This is my home ground; I will not loose at home.

I will not………

No time for your hater-ation, I got busy days going for the federation………

The government cannot give all the concern in the world to these agents of terror, while we deplete into oblivion, I absolutely understand that.

But, I lost my sisters…………

Somebody pray for me, they wan make me to cry………

Mama cries everyday. Since Tony left for school and never returned, Papa works extra at the quarry. Even Hafsat, my neighbor is not at home. She never returned form selling Nunu. I always loved the way she prepared her Fura de Nunu. Her mother cries too. I feel the pain sometimes.

I know what they feel, it’s the hurt that makes you feel like you are crying blood; it looks like they will at any minute soon. I had never been in labor but I remember when my science teacher described it last semester, I felt the pain between my legs – that reminds me, my science teacher died too.

I imagine that these mothers feel the pain of labor all-over again, except this time there was no fruit, just an endless spiral down into shambles; different tiny pieces that could never be put together again.

These days all the people wey you call friends, chook hand for your eye and they no send………

Trust no one

No one trusts.

If you fly too much, they turn terrorists, if you try to shine too bright, the turn eclipse………

They think they can dim our stars but there they have it wrong.

We’re just getting started, we’ll shine brighter.

How the fuck am I supposed to relate this? Am I supposed to be upset?

I can’t still understand.

I can’t understand this, still.

Damn! I know nothing at all,

How do you understand what you don’t know?

Brother you see, if you wish me well, then I wish you well…………

It was a youth peace concert, an event to commemorate the lives that were lost in the terror attacks in the Northern part of my country, Nigeria. There were people of all ages. Security officials; military and paramilitary, even intelligence officers could be found in every nook and cranny. The safety measures were put in place for the various African first ladies who were at the venue and it would be a shame for harm to come to them on Nigerian soil.

But the most important people though, the mothers who lost their children, husbands who lost their wives, children who lost their friends are seated in their huts just below the scorching sun that is glistening in their tears.

When bad things happen in succession, our people say, “Na Juju dey worry us”