17th November, 2016 Writers

Yesterday, I died

I watched my spirit crack open the walls of my flesh, tearing down the bricks of emotions without fear, breaking the chains of mortality that held it bound.

I watched the air vanish within a twinkle of an eye

My body laid like a piece of stone by the sea shore. Emotions paused with no hope of replay.

I watched my five senses gone; feelings numb, eyes blind, ears deaf, mouth dumb, nose blocked

I watched me gone.

I was just seven. 

They told me repeatedly that I was the leader of tomorrow. Well tomorrow never came. I'm a spirit now.

I bet my mother has drown herself in the sea of regret for allowing me leave the house in the first place but tell her it's not her fault. Tell her my heart was broken each time she had to go out with that blue bowl; the one she bought to store soup in the refrigerator when our land was still green to beg for food for four children who had no understanding of the word 'hardship'. Tell her the tears of my sibling had come up to me like smoke from our local kitchen that morning. Tell her I had to wear the shoes of my late father; the bread weaner, before I stand by the grave to bury another.

She never taught me to steal. I never did. This was my first time. I did it for my siblings. I did it for her. 

Tell her my ashes have gone with the wind. Tell her I'm a celebrity; everyone is talking about me. Tell her I joined the train to the after life. Tell her I was sorry for disappointing her.

To my siblings.

I'm sorry I've left you to let out the very emotion we were told to suppress as boys. 

I'm sorry I left with the promise I made. I promised you would never starve. I promised. I'm gone now. With no hopes of coming back with the garri I had taken from that woman's shop. I was caught. No one saw the pain in my eyes. No one saw the hunger on my face. They called me a thief and judged me as one. I forgive them.

Tell mama to be strong. Tell her I will look for papa and tell him how much she misses him. Tell her I will plead with God to give me a second chance not as human but an angel. Tell her help will come. Tell her to smile. Tell her I love her.

To my killers.

I weep for your land. I weep for the curse you have brought upon your children. I weep for the stains on your hands. For like Abel, my blood has a voice and its speaking. I might forgive you but the consequences of your actions can not be washed away by hypocritical plea to your ancestors. Until I be the last to be laid on the alter of your burning flames, my blood shall be upon you, your generation and the land they shall inhabit.

Yesterday, I died.

Today, I live.

Immortality has welcomed me.


Abuja, Nigeria
  • When a seven year old boy feels the painful bite of jungle justice, he only tells his part of the story from his ashes.

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