A SATIRE IN MEMORY OF THE 7 YEARS OLD BOY THEY BURNT IN LAGOS FOR ALLEGEDLY STEALING GARRI
....He died trying to save mama......
.
Today, Mama's health condition worsened
drastically, and the doctor threatened, despite my
tears, to abandon mama and let her die if i don't find
a way to fetch her food. You see, the treatment
wouldn't work, because she hadn't eaten for days.
There is no food at home, no money either.
Sometimes, she falls when she stands, and cries
like a baby, when the doctor's injections come
rushing down her veins. It's painful!
Risikat, my younger sister, is a lorry-load of pain.
I've seen her cry, countless times, because of
Mama's state. Sometimes, she'd kneel before
Mama, and tear her own clothe open, and bring out
her little breast, and tell her to "suck and live,"
hoping to feed Mama with breastmilk. But she is
only five years old, and hasn't eaten for days either.
So no breastmilk comes out... And that makes her
cry.
Sometimes, Lagos is a city. But most times, it's a
battlefield! I got tired of the war at home and i raced
to the market for help. I had a little bowl, no larger
than a baby's head, and i walked from table to
table...begging for food; begging for love. I thought
they'd understand, by looking at my face, how much
I've been through, and how my mother's life
depends on how much food i go back home with. I
told them of how Papa had died two years ago; but
no one cared. They talked about recession, and of
problems here and there. None spared a drop, none
stooped to give. No one!
People are hesitant to help the poor...they'd watch
you fall and crawl, weeping for help, and refuse to
help. But the very rich get all the favours in the
world, without even asking. I thought Tunde's
mother would help me out with a cup of garri from
her table. She refused. I stole a handful and ran
away...I thought she would forgive!
ALSO READ: 40 years old man rape and impregnated 15 years old stepdaughter
It makes me cry, when i see people who are
cheerful givers, only when they wish to hurt. I mean,
the vulcanizer who had refused to give me little
money to buy food for Mama suddenly donated a
tyre worth thousands of naira, for the mob to burn
me with. Mama Tunde suddenly forgot about
recession and donated a litre of petrol for them to
burn me with. Everybody is donating matchsticks,
and i'm wondering: Why this generosity? Why is the
recession suddenly over? Why were they stingy
until now?
See, I'm not saying it's okay to steal. I'm saying it is
okay to forgive. I'm saying a little kindness would
have gone a long way.
I'm not scared of death, or the mob anymore. I'm
scared of those that live as though they are already
dead - heartless, merciless. I am scared of people
who act as if they are sacrosanct and unbiased. To
my murderers, i ask: if at home, you discover that
your son, or brother, or nephew stole a handful of
garri from the storeroom, will you kill him? Will you
shout at the top of your voice till the whole
neighborhood gathers about him? Why not just
scold me... And let me live?
Tell Risikat that I couldn't save us. Tell her to gather
my ashes when I am done burning...But never tell
Mama that the handful of garri that revived her had
been gotten in exchange for my life.
Tell God I'm dead, and, I was killed by men meaner
than the devil himself!
Tell Lagos: I came, I saw, and I conquered...som
ehow!
Tell yourself that I'm gone, forget that I ever lived!
Tell me goodbye...say no more. That'll be enough
for my lifeless bones...
SAVE A SOUL BY PASSING IT ON
THAT LITTLE BOY IS STRONGER THAN TH E
HERCULES YOU KNOW
ALSO READ: Heartless: Woman tortures 12 year old maid for allegedly stealing meat
NOTE: silnetnews in the strongest term ever which to condemn this inhuman act of jungle justice against this little boy who died for trying to survive
....He died trying to save mama......
.
drastically, and the doctor threatened, despite my
tears, to abandon mama and let her die if i don't find
a way to fetch her food. You see, the treatment
wouldn't work, because she hadn't eaten for days.
There is no food at home, no money either.
Sometimes, she falls when she stands, and cries
like a baby, when the doctor's injections come
rushing down her veins. It's painful!
Risikat, my younger sister, is a lorry-load of pain.
I've seen her cry, countless times, because of
Mama's state. Sometimes, she'd kneel before
Mama, and tear her own clothe open, and bring out
her little breast, and tell her to "suck and live,"
hoping to feed Mama with breastmilk. But she is
only five years old, and hasn't eaten for days either.
So no breastmilk comes out... And that makes her
cry.
Sometimes, Lagos is a city. But most times, it's a
battlefield! I got tired of the war at home and i raced
to the market for help. I had a little bowl, no larger
than a baby's head, and i walked from table to
table...begging for food; begging for love. I thought
they'd understand, by looking at my face, how much
I've been through, and how my mother's life
depends on how much food i go back home with. I
told them of how Papa had died two years ago; but
no one cared. They talked about recession, and of
problems here and there. None spared a drop, none
stooped to give. No one!
People are hesitant to help the poor...they'd watch
you fall and crawl, weeping for help, and refuse to
help. But the very rich get all the favours in the
world, without even asking. I thought Tunde's
mother would help me out with a cup of garri from
her table. She refused. I stole a handful and ran
away...I thought she would forgive!
ALSO READ: 40 years old man rape and impregnated 15 years old stepdaughter
It makes me cry, when i see people who are
cheerful givers, only when they wish to hurt. I mean,
the vulcanizer who had refused to give me little
money to buy food for Mama suddenly donated a
tyre worth thousands of naira, for the mob to burn
me with. Mama Tunde suddenly forgot about
recession and donated a litre of petrol for them to
burn me with. Everybody is donating matchsticks,
and i'm wondering: Why this generosity? Why is the
recession suddenly over? Why were they stingy
until now?
See, I'm not saying it's okay to steal. I'm saying it is
okay to forgive. I'm saying a little kindness would
have gone a long way.
I'm not scared of death, or the mob anymore. I'm
scared of those that live as though they are already
dead - heartless, merciless. I am scared of people
who act as if they are sacrosanct and unbiased. To
my murderers, i ask: if at home, you discover that
your son, or brother, or nephew stole a handful of
garri from the storeroom, will you kill him? Will you
shout at the top of your voice till the whole
neighborhood gathers about him? Why not just
scold me... And let me live?
Tell Risikat that I couldn't save us. Tell her to gather
my ashes when I am done burning...But never tell
Mama that the handful of garri that revived her had
been gotten in exchange for my life.
Tell God I'm dead, and, I was killed by men meaner
than the devil himself!
Tell Lagos: I came, I saw, and I conquered...som
ehow!
Tell yourself that I'm gone, forget that I ever lived!
Tell me goodbye...say no more. That'll be enough
for my lifeless bones...
SAVE A SOUL BY PASSING IT ON
THAT LITTLE BOY IS STRONGER THAN TH E
HERCULES YOU KNOW
ALSO READ: Heartless: Woman tortures 12 year old maid for allegedly stealing meat
NOTE: silnetnews in the strongest term ever which to condemn this inhuman act of jungle justice against this little boy who died for trying to survive
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