Of all things to be done with money
Of all the homeless, hungry and hopeless children loitering and littering the starved streets of this ancient city
Of all the insecurities and police brutalities
Of all ignoble social vices and communal clashes
Of all the lack and late payment of salaries
Of all the outdated hospital facilities, bad transport systems and traffic
Of all the countless nameless projects abandoned like old unused currencies
Of all the indiscriminate felling of trees
Of all the teaming teenage pregnancies in our little villages
Of all obvious pot holes, inadequate electricity and tourist sites waiting to be beautified like brides on the day of their matrimonies
The only thing our eyes set sight on to spare resources is an annual December ritual festival called CARNIVAL
From a birds eye I see
I see “Africa’s Biggest Street Party”, nothing but an army of lost but precious souls drowning in a pool of self-invented confusion
Walking corpses corrupted in vain imaginations
I see Asians, Brazilians and a host of other nations trooping in like bees dancing to the soundtrack of their funeral
I see young fertile minds sprayed in nothing but golden dust and diamond ashes like wooden furniture
Broken sculptures of beautiful foreseen future spilled on the thirsty streets longing to feast on their bright destinies and they are too blind to see
That they are preys disguised in colors sacrificing their worth to the gods of promiscuity
I see their smiles but beyond I see souls drowning in a sea of destruction with screams muted by the actions of their bodies
I see twins shouting with beating hearts almost stolen decades ago by the two edged teeth’s and sharp claws of wild animals in a cursed forest that feeds on nothing but cradle bones
Laying waste the efforts of sweet slessor whose subtle skin was ravished
By blood sucking insects whose thirst for righteous blood is more desperate than a humans thirst for salvation
As I see them walk I see virtue, falling down like yellow leaves blown by autumn breeze picked up by hands only the third eye can see
I see them in forms of ancient masquerades striving so hard to relive their almost extinct practices
With faces covered in nothing but modernized and updated mask trying to hide the real meaning of their intentions
Using these innocent souls as instruments of destruction to become relevant
I see future wife materials decapitated of morals as they are dressed in attires of Delilah
I see future men bowing down to altars of defeat as they shred their masculinity like used rags on harsh floors
I see children, innocent beauties initiated ignorantly to the culture of profanity with destinies traded for few shillings
I see coca-cola shapes, figure 8s turning to figure 0s as their essence are being degraded from glorious to sinful
I see bodies which were supposed to be marriage properties becoming nothing but open secrets
Wrecked and worn down like tired ships and we wonder why our so called future leaders are nothing but minds with second hand dreams because the festival cannibals feast on their borne ideas like roasted yam and red gold
With deadly aftermath consequences
I see tears on tender cheeks as girls forcefully relinquish their pride to strangers in one night stands they were never sure of
I see death,
I see wailings as people are denied of their properties all thanks to a one day ritual we never seem to notice
And then I see joy flooding in like endless streams into the underworld because tons of purpose, dreams, aspirations, and success have been diluted with mixtures of nothing but materialism
Injected with failure and wantonness
And then I see my leaders clothed in same slavery uniforms with hands chained by the cuffs of shortsightedness
Too myopic to see the consequences plague by these unwholesome glee
Making negative profit stacking their coin bags with different mints to the detriment of our dimming future
Nothing but pawns manipulated to fit to the infrastructure of the dark
With all said,
For positive growth,
Certain things need to be stopped, reviewed or reconstructed and this is undoubtedly one of them.
By _iamscripted
I am Ofem Ubi
A student of mass communication
Lover of art, good music, poetry, photography
Christian by birth and till death
This is my blog
