A Tribute To a Legend

The past

resides only in the deep corners of our memory

without remembrance, it fades away fast

Our eyes so fixed on the present and future, that past becomes mere history

a thing of tales, just a chapter added to an unending story

but then Things Fall Apart, the present is no longer comfortable

and the future  looks not so desirable

so we turn to the luminance of the nearly forgotten past for answers

we look behind, so that we can move forward ready and informed

The writer,

constructed stories that were rich and ripe with truth

in the face of oppression and corruption, he was never mute

He was confident and steadfast, he would never waver

even when in a dicey situation, he would still put pen to paper

This made him a beacon, in a time of darkness

He gave a voice to a people who could not be heard

Surely he is the true Man Of The People

with words, he made us understand his genuine concern, that he really cared

Sadly, painfully the writer, the prophet has joined that recess

He now belongs to the past

The legacy,

his last and most important gift to us,

it can never be relegated to the past, for it is so evident in our present,

it is visible, tangible and spread throughout the land

Stories and poems flowed easily from the pen in his hand

So when we are No Longer At Ease, we need not look too far

for his legacy is right there staring at us with the right answer

One of Africa's true and only beacons of literacy

undoubtedly, this is a powerful legacy

His beacon will shine far and long into the future.

with his pen, he left behind prophecies, truths and advice

He made us understand the truth was the smallest price

we could pay to ensure we are not lost or trapped in a false culture

An Iroko Tree Has Fallen in Africa, but it's roots would remain in the soil forever

waiting to grow with every generation that would be inspired by this great writer

this gentle giant, this humble legend... Chinua Achebe

On your legacy, we shall always depend.

Perfection

They tell us "the stars are within our reach"

"The sky is your limit", they continue to preach

But nobody reminds us of the distance we drop

when we fail to reach the heights or when we eventually flop

So we leap up towards the sky with all optimism and hope

forgetting a fact of reality that a leap is only temporary

that our flight towards greatness is only momentary.

They tell us to strive for perfection

But they also say that God alone owns perfection

"How can we compete with that?" we ask

We have been charged with an impossible divine task

Who am I? Who are we? to even dream of such a feat

For God, watching us trying to emulate Him must be a real treat

amused at how we keep forgetting that we are but clay,

fragile, vulnerable and frail.

Fortunately, there are those who defy the odds

Among men, they stand tall and proud as gods

They teach us that fear is a choice, it is just an option

We can choose to be fearful of our fragile nature

Or we can choose to put our faith in a new conviction

that we are created in God's image; This alone is enough nurture

to free us from our hesitation and inhibition

to give us the push we need to make that Godlike leap

even for just a moment, the world gets to have a privileged peep

at greatness, at perfection, at us growing into our divine self

For the leap, the effort, is perfection in itself. 

Land

Let us pray for structure

Let us pray for government

Let us pray for law

For a land without law, is a land without sin

A land without sin is a land without morality

A land without morality is a land without conscience

A land without conscience is a land without humanity

But then, A land free from humanity is a land free from lies

A land free from lies, is a land free of deception

A land free of deception, is a land free from betrayal

A land free from betrayal is a land free from hurt

A land free from hurt is land free from war

A land free from war is a land blessed with peace

So surely, a land blessed with peace, is a land without war

A land without war is  a land with no conflict

A land with no conflict is a land lacking ideas

A land lacking ideas is a land without religion

A land without religion is a land without a government

So we can only pray for religion

For religion is structure

Religion is the law

Religion is government.

Silence

On Monday the 8th of October 2012, I was unfortunate to have come across a video of such grotesque and barbaric nature. Four boys were literally being beaten to death amidst the chanting of an angry mob. Despite having being told what would eventually happen at the end of the video, I still watched it with some sort of hope, some sort of expectation. I hoped that at the last moment, the boys would gain some incredible strength, stand up and flea. Or that the police would come in and take the boys into custody and safety. Or maybe even a friend, an ordinary person would swoop in and command the lynching to be stopped immediately. But my hope was painfully in vain; there was no flight, no interruptions, no fairy tale movie ending. There was only more beating, more begging for mercy, more stone heartedness, and more jungle justice. At the end, I watched in genuine horror as these boys were being set ablaze. 

Martin Luther King's words rang out in my mind after watching this video: "At the end, we wouldn't remember the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends". So I wondered to myself, at the very end, was that really all what the boys heard, silence? Were they completely deaf to the angered chants and words of the mob? Well, no I don't think so. I think it would be pretty difficult not to hear the voice of your own murderers as they continue to plank you to death. But I think, louder would be the deafening silence of faces that simply stared down at them. Painful and heartbreaking would be the active inaction of people only recording the scene as the boys are publicly executed without a trial or a chance of even being heard. 

Some may blame their silence on fear; some may use the angry mob to rationalize their muteness. Of course these are logical reasons to back and shy away from any the wrath of the angry mob. But when would we finally prevent "logics" stopping us from doing the right thing. It was logical to keep silent, when people were continuously killed in bomb blasts, or when students were called out by names and gunned down in broad daylight. It is "logical" for those in the position of influence to watch muted, as atrocities are committed constantly in the name of one irrational course or another, all because they fear for their safety. By now, our society should have or be moving past the logics of fear and hesitation. It is obvious that our rulers (not leaders) are not willing to move beyond this. However we as citizens and individuals can move beyond the fear and hesitation, we can become LEADERS. We can start by acting, by voicing out when we see the rampant evils occurring everywhere, already at an alarming rate.

 Lupe Fiasco summed it all up; "if you don't become an actor, you would never be a factor". Let us start acting so that the atrocities such as the one committed on the 5th of October 2012 would never repeat itself. May the souls of the Aluu victims find the solace of heaven greater than the pain and silence of the hell they went through.

Amen.

Stories

People no longer told stories in the country...The country used to have stories. Story tellers used tell several tales about the great heroes and their visions. Storytellers used to be eager to pump the myth through the streets of the cities. These myths used to fall on every ear and was retold by every mouth. Every corner, you could hear the whispering and the murmur of the great city. Story tellers used to promise the children, that if they worked hard enough, they too would get to invent and tell their tales however they see fit. Stories assured the old that they had lived a prosperous life, and they can move on knowing that the city was in great hands. That used to be a long time ago, a time of hope, prosperity and heroes, a time of storytelling. 

Now that the old have moved on and the children have matured, there is nobody left to believe in stories anymore. Stories were almost always based on a myth or a rumored truth. Stories harbored an escape from the harsh realities of life. Stories carried with it hope of a better future or just a different future. But what good is an escape plan if it never works? What good is Hope in a city that lacks faith? Citizens of the country no longer wasted their energy believing in such, The only thing concrete for them now were facts. Facts were sturdy, real and certain. They weren't based on false hope or myths, they were based on the realities the city had to offer its people. Facts enabled the citizens to prepare. For instance, the police officer is prepared to collect whatever spare change he can get from citizens at the expense of the general security because he knows the minimum wage salary he is being paid would not be enough to cover his family's expenses. Or the civil servant is prepared to falsify documents to make some extra cash because he knows that he would have to give bribes to the police officers and also ensure his retirement days. Or the youths who are prepared to throw away all moral and ethical obligation to start fraud, theft or armed robbery because they know that there isn't enough employment for them once they finish school. Or the people who build houses behind high fences laced with broken bottles or barbed wire because they know the government cannot ensure their security against the lost youth. These are all facts that help the citizens survive, it's what they need. It didn't do anyone any good to keep believing in ridiculous stories and myths such as the government, the constitution or hope. It was just better not to tell stories at all.

Choice

I wonder, why do I choose to believe?

Do I believe because I fear the label given to those who don't

Or could it be that I believe because in truth I have no choice

Even though, I would like to think that I do,

 For, I choose to stay away from the darkness because I have seen light

I choose to smile and laugh because I  have seen others cry

I choose to read because I have seen illiterates engulfed in deception and lies

So I choose to tell the truth for I have seen the destruction caused by just a single lie

I choose to be strong because I have seen the society prey on the weak

No, I do have a choice, this couldn't have been forced on me

He who gave us the power, must have thought us capable

If not, there would be no freewill, there would be no ability of thought

For the power to choose must have been given to us for some reason

So I  could choose to appreciate and protect my life because I have seen others die

I could choose to run away because I have seen others imprisoned without any chance of escape

The power to choose what I want in my life is mine

For choice is a gift, surely divine.

Numbers

I used to love numbers. They were intriguing and interesting to me. I personified them, gave them human characteristics so that I could connect more with them. Number 2 was a pretty young girl that all the other numbers liked, seemingly because most numbers could be divided by it. Number 5 was the rich snobbish aristocrat, because only double or more digit numbers could be divided by it and mostly multiplies to give double or more digits. My favorite and lucky number was 7 simply because I could not personify it; it seemed to stand alone; unique. I loved them because they gave precision and certainty. It gave organisation and confidence. It was exciting solving for them knowing that you could end up with any possible number; and they were so many, they were infinite. This was why math was my favorite subject in high school. It was the only subject that I did not need to completely memorize, I just simply understood it. I really used to love numbers, but then I left high school.  

Leaving high school was a big change for me. I suddenly became more conscious about everything; politics, religion, society and even the environment. I followed the news more, followed the current events happening around the world. I followed the Arab uprising that occurred in early 2011. I remember watching the news, and listening to figures been mentioned by the journalists. “20 people have been killed and 15 others injured in recent clashes between the Egyptian masses and government troops”. These were some of the figures being tossed around. I understood that this was bad, but I felt detached from the situation, it felt impersonal, like I was listening to someone listing out facts.  

However, the recent air crash tragedy made me realise that it is always different when we know one of the several numbers being mentioned. That’s when we feel the full impact, that’s when we feel the pain, that’s when it becomes personal. It also made me realise that numbers don’t do justice enough to the dead or suffering people. When the news tells of the 33 people that died in a bus crash, it also fails to mention that aboard that bus was a successful business woman and a mother of four, or that involved was a family of four returning home after a joyous vacation. When the news talks of the 50 people that were killed and the 24 others that were injured in the clash between Syrian government troops and rebels, it fails to mention that among the dead was an extremely skilled artist who was preparing to go to France to fulfill her dreams or among the injured is an aspiring footballer who would never kick a ball again because of his broken knee. When the we hear of the 193 people that died on the recent air crash, the numbers do not tell us of the student in his final year heading back to school after a successful summer’s internship or of the young woman going to a new and different state for ‘greener pastures’.

 Numbers are extremely precise but are also extremely anonymous. They are certain but lack any emotional attachment. They are rational but lack any form of sympathy. Personalities and identity of the numerous individuals involved in these disasters are lost or forgotten amidst the figures and numbers being thrown around. To fully understand the gravity of these tragedies, we have to look beyond the figures and reports; we have to look beyond the numbers.

This is dedicated to all the nameless and faceless people who lost their lives in the recent tragic DANA AIR crash (Sunday 3^rd 2012) , and to all the other people who have lost their lives in other tragedies and disasters around the world, May their names and faces always have recognition in the hearts of their loved ones.