Musings of an angry, Nigerian woman!

I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, feel like tugging at my hair so hard my eyes smart with tears as my weave is yanked off my corn-rows. I feel like punching something multiple times, a lifeless bag till it bursts or silently pleads for me to stop. I kick at the air, so angry, so vexed, inconsolable. There are no tears to be shed, who has time for such weak emotions? I am angry, I am mad, I am a prisoner enraged with her captors, aggressive as primal instincts override social graces, let me at them, let me cause havoc, let me shout till I can shout no more, let me kick the sand and rent my clothes till I am heard, till the world pays attention. Don’t try to calm me down, take that diazepam far from me, I am angry, I am furious, I see red, only red, leave me as my nostrils flare and my chest heaves, I don’t care if I burst an artery, I must be heard.

I struggle, trying hard to break my chains…I see the alarm in their eyes and I snarl, you can call me a beast, I don’t care, I spit at them. You crazy lot, God punish you, may your children be murdered as they nurse upon accursed breasts, I scream! A blood-curdling scream, and crumble to the floor. I lie beside my dead children, I see the expanse of blood and mangled bodies, my eyes focus on the lifeless body of Hadiza and then I pass out…struggling even as I feel the cold clutches of the darkness that beckons, I refuse to be comforted….

For how long will they work tirelessly while honest men sleep, planting devices fashioned in Hades, mounting them beside the very places people seek solace? How long will I turn my face as they rob me of my children? What do you want I scream as I see the receding darkness, taunting me, a faceless terror. Tell me, anything to make you stop. I hate this feeling of helplessness, not knowing when or where I shall find the blood of my children scattered abroad like dew atop the soil. Help me anyone, anyone but you father. Your handicap leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth, I cheered you on when you wobbled on crutches to the esteemed stool, I failed to see the fear in your one good eye or the dent in your gut where your liver had been stolen in the dead of night. I thought a one-eyed man could lead the blind, I rejoiced that your kindness would bring a better life for my children. Father I have lost faith. Your promises and tears no better than the gluttony of the men you left to guard your city. Father has turned against us, I see the pain in his tired eyes as he swallows reality with a healthy dose of luxury. His eye has gone blind, blind to my pain, blind to the tears that ceased to fall after months of futility. You can’t give up papa, you can’t grow cold, papa see my children, see the chains, can you do nothing?

I spit again as the bile rises up in my throat, so many dead, I have lost count. How did papa end up with an army of drunkards and rusty ammunition? Why don’t my brothers care? Their children are far away, mine are scattered and disemboweled. I scream again, till the birds rise up in the forest, in search of peace where it may be found. There is non here, not while my children lie dead. Can’t anyone help us? I look to the heavens and whisper “When will the Messiah come?”. The darkness comes around again…this time I give in easily, that’s my only respite…

….Silence….