BeingMaryJane

So I sit here, waiting

Waiting for you to give me a sign

Waiting for you to tell me that I am the one

We talk incessantly

Wishing and hoping, praying and dreaming

Together.

Together Is what I thought we were

What I thought you wanted us to be

It is crazy how one can get so deluded

So crazy in love it is freaking pathetic.

But little did I know

That while we were jamming to each other’s melody

You were in between the legs of your wife Melody.

So it is true?

Is it true that you wasted my time?

Is it true you are not the man of my life?

You hesitate –

Naturally.

You cannot give me a straight answer.

Just like the criss-crossed roads in Bagada

You are confused

Not sure how to explain it

But it’s okay, I have gotten the message

Good bye and good riddance to bad rubbish!
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Nigeria

Nigeria,

The great country I come from, where men say “Baby how are you?”

Where the bus conductors screech “Obalande, Obalande, Yaba, Yaba,” at the top of their voices.

The country with great wealth and expertise that is manhandled and refused to progress at the hands of the fortress.

The fortress that holds what people describe as the government, yet nobody hears a word or feels their worth.

We send our children abroad to be educated by who we describe as the “Oyinbo’s.”

Why? Because they provide the land of opportunity and education that our great country does not unfold.

We read stories from a man called Dickens and a woman called Austen, Great British Classics they are titled, to educate us about money, sex and love.

Back home we have writers like Achebe, that spell out the name of the game.

The game that so desperately needs to change in order to ensure progress in our homeland.

He writes about the Igbo tribe and how developed we were before the white man came.

He speaks about the tragedy of our great land at the hands of the fortress.

 

Nigeria,

The great country where there are traffic jams and the drivers yell, “Orioda!”

The land where we never abide by the Zebra Crossing for fear another gets an advantage.

Nigeria, the land where corruption spews out of very tap and palm kernel.

The land where its people never choose to revolt for fear that they will be taken away.

Away into the jail cells we call “Panti,” where the police officers will handle them shortly.

Their fingernails might be ripped out of their hands by the hands of the “Teata.”

I tease, it’s not that extreme, but whoever goes in sha, never comes out.

Again, I tease, it’s for dramatic effect, but I hope you get the point, excuse me I digress.

Going back to the point, a rich man in his car slips the LASTMA a few hundred so he can be direct.

Directly on his way he goes, meanwhile he doesn’t face that he’s screwed up on the road.

 

Nigeria,

The land I come from, where we wait for the UK, to try all our criminals.

Those that should face justice, slip away like a whore in the daylight.

They run away to a country with no jurisdiction, but are later caught and found by the British police.

Recently, they stated they shall reform our jails so that they can return the shmucks.

They say they don’t want to infringe their human rights, “Oh how kind, I don’t give a fuck!”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Because why should we wait for other countries to make a change in ours.

A change in the country I come from, where the people shy away from the kingdom.

The kingdom of a right and true Nigeria.

Instead all their education goes to waste as they become one of the damned ones.

The ones that slowly become a part of the fortress and here we go, we never progress.

I think it’s about time that we evaluate our stance in this world,

And not only think about saving the human race, but remember our country with all the lost souls.

Lookie here, I’m done with my words, but I hope it gave you another option, it’s not a hearse.

Georgette Monnou ©

Image

Picture belongs to Georgette Monnou ©

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