By Chinonye Ozoemenam and Hillary Emeka
Where do we go from here?
When backward leads to the days of dark tradition?
Maybe forward since we have been made to believe the saying, ” forward ever, backward never”.
Wait, but that’s matching up to the face of the pretty ugly world that has brought havoc to our aboard.
What have we not done?
Is it cultivating love in tales told in moon light?,
Bonding in dishes best enjoyed as a whole,
Measuring with the globe to a certain reasonable economy,
Or selling off our heritage for a lifestyle we think fit?
Accepting to be together as a whole by the plot of Fredrick lugard?
Falling for the deceitful words of supposed leaders?
Fighting for fairness in peaceful protests?
Or depending too much on the mightiness of the pen?
Nigeria at 61,
Yet, we are better imagined not as 61.
But 16 instead of As an adult country, because peace is far fetched
Corrupt practices are on daily bases counting.
We had a life reverenced like in the days of Sir Tafawa.
The days we were pulled up to the world on the rope of giant of Africa.
Days our eagles flew high above the cloud.
Days better lived than imagined.
It’s sad we are left in Home ruined of its beauty, happiness and pride.
A home more like a stranger’s land,
Where good deeds are treated like trash,
And doers yawned at just to escape the peaceful nature of the home.
Justice meant for the masses, hijacked by the cream de la cream of the home,
Who we sing of their glory,
In campaigns and during visitations and commissioning,
For peanuts just to shade their evil stories and secure fat lotteries.
Now our home is with roof pulled down by it’s occupants.
Occupants who is supposed to uphold humanity,
Decry oppression and help one another heal from depression,
Now trade love for evil.
Now our rooms are open to bandits, killings and high cost of living greed by heat and harsh wind of corrupt practices.
We lost our beloved aboard,
Causing laughter to sound strange to the ears.
Shortchanging vision for division.
All it has ever known is heart aches and sorrow.
Bones and thorns of selfishness and greed have eaten deep down our kernels.
This has caused us pain,
Brought us to our knees,
Downplayed our tireless efforts without solace nor consolation.
All what our soil yells for everyday is to be productive.
Not to grow pain,
Nor be fertilized with blood of the innocent that never saw justice.
Now In our home, laughter sounds strange to our ears,
All it knows is sad occurrences,
And our eyes,
Tears, range, anger and pain.
How dependent is Independence?
When lives are dependent on sacred cows?
When we aren’t Depenent enough on security personnels to travel around our home without our hearts in our hands?
When we aren’t Dependent enough to serve our fatherland without been scared to explore for fear of the unknown.
How dependent is Independence Nigeria at 61?