I’m terrified.
I don’t know what I intend to write in this piece. I do not know how the words will form. I just feel a yearning to tell someone of the hole in my chest–a deep, dark abyss of fear that has consumed me since last week.
It's coming, I know it's coming. When the clouds will turn black and our country lies in ashes before us. It's been coming for a while now but last week’s events sealed it in my heart. I feel no hope for the future, I see no silver lining in this black cloud. Soro soke tasted like relief but it was short-lived. The devils have returned, using their favorite work tools — tribalism, poverty, and religion to divide and conquer.
I think about Taraba. I think about Kaduna. I think about the scores and scores of names Hundeyin tweeted, each name a life snuffed out without a care. I hear their voices in my sleep. I think about those 3 university students, murdered in cold blood. I think about narratives–about dangerous rhetoric and its implications throughout history. I think about ethnic cleansing and raised machetes. I think about the value of a Nigerian Life.
How can one fix this country? I have no solution. The only thing I know is every time I leave my house, I prepare for the worst. It's ruining my mind, affecting my work, and depressing my thoughts.
The end is near.
Tick, Tock.
