June 12

When my children ask me what democracy was?
I will tell them it was school children finding solace under armed men
I will tell them it was mothers closing the eyes of their dead husbands,
Women removing bullets from the bodies of their sons
I will tell them it was young girls having their first orgasms at ten, not gentle, not sweet but forceful penetration

I will tell them it was the Dapchi girls
I will tell them the tales of Amina, Binta and other Chibok girls
I will tell them of crazy fanatics dying for seven virgins
I will tell them of Baga,
of school boys roasted in their dormitory at Buni Yadi
I will tell them of southern Kaduna

When my children ask me what democracy was?
I will tell them it was politicians in agbada
Carting nairas in ‘Ghana must gos’
I will tell them it was bunch of SINators
Fattening their bank accounts like cows headed to the abattoirs
While the people lived with empty stomachs and jagged dreams

When my children ask me what democracy was
I will tell them it was our president travelling overseas for medical treatment

it was crazy demonstrations
Of poverty, hopelessness
And university students loosing hope amidst countless strikes

I will tell them democracy was dem all crazy
That democracy was for saner countries
How could you be sane with no jobs?
How could you be sane with empty stomachs and kwarshiorkored families?
How could you be sane when the only orders were the national honors? the ones donned on Abiola, Babagana and Gani

I will tell them democracy was fiction
One that lived in the pages of our government textbooks
_“of the people, by the people, for the people”
That for this democracy, numbers lied

That there was no free education, no better healthcare system
That majority of the citizen are just a sickness away to soliciting for funds on social media
That there was freedom of expression but
Freedom after expression was a luxury the majority couldn’t afford

I will tell them that the ones who sworn to protect our lives and properties
Sworn themselves as our enemies
That police brutality was the norm
And only a call to Sega is what save young men
Whose crime is carrying a phone from rotting in jail

When my children ask me what democracy was
I will tell them the stories of Kolade Johnson, 16years old Tina Ezekwe, Dadiyata,
Mariam Shobukola, Fatai Oladipupo,Chima Ikwunado,
Tiyamiyu Kazeem,
the stories of Rinji Bala,
Solomon, Christian, Izu,
Chukwuemeka, Chibuike
Aneke

and how their families keep clutching the heaviness of their absence
I will tell them to say their names

I will tell them Of how the lives of human became the harvests of Herdsmen
That women were gang raped
And money was asked in exchange of lives

When my children ask me what democracy was

I will tell them electricity was still a luxury and we rejoiced “up nepa”
That bad roads were the coffins of our people

That we idolized looters and corrupt leaders
We named monument in their honors
That when a man called for revolution
He spent so many nights in the comfort of a prison

That democracy was another shackle the majority lived in
That things fell apart
The center in Abuja couldn’t hold
Lawmakers fell off moving vehicles,
Chairs were thrown, and the maze was stolen

That democracy died June 12, 1993 along Abeokuta and Kano roads
The labour of our leaders past was buried alongside an Egba man.

When my children ask me what democracy was
I will tell them Democravy was dem all crazy
And #wearetired

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