Blood on the Street’s Floor

Michael Jackson said it was “Blood on the Dance Floor.” Today in Nigeria, it’s “Blood on the Street’s Floor.” Whose blood if I may ask? Whose blood if I may ask?

 The blood of the one called TOMORROW’S. The blood of the one called FUTURE. The blood of the oone called LEADER.

 Whose blood if I may ask? The blood of young vibrant Nigerians trying to make headway in a nation stifling their growth at every turn from the day their umbilical cord was cut.

 The blood of Greg the graphic artist on dreadlocks now in cuff locks for just trying to look different.

 The blood of Jamiu jamming multiple hustles at Computer Village as trying to fend for oneself is now a sacrilege.

 The blood of Ebuka the software developer who had a book and a laptop in his knapsack and now his bones are embellished with cracks.

 The blood of Mary who spoke to defend her boyfriend who drives a Camry only to end up being locked up in the armory.

 Who did we offend to deserve this form of brutality from humanity? While trying to be creative, you’re being called a thief.

 The depth of the uncivilized approach to inquiry and uncultured disposition of putting forth their interrogation. The forceful confiscation of one’s hard-earned possession by uniformed men whose minds are dark to the light of the technological revolution.

 The breach of privacy that will earn my hands being cuffed and mouth being stuffed with blows for standing up for my right. Who are these oppressors in my father’s land?

 They’re supposed to be my friend. My friend? I doubt it. The Police! My friend! Impossible! Tufiakwa! *snaps fingers* *spits by the roadside*

 “The Police is Your Friend” such comical metaphoric rhetoric. There goes the slogan of the one who swore to protect me from danger and keep me safe. Yet, “Father into Thy hands I commit my life” is my daily mantra before I step out.

 The government failed and cheated on them. Failed us even more. And the police chose to vent its rage of deprivation on innocent youths trying to get by daily in an imbalanced nation.

 All these happen with so much deafening silence from those who should lend their voice, influence, and even their lives to see these youths amount to something good in life.

 Every single leader or person of influence right from the most-reverend-senior-apostle-general-overseer to community chiefs, kings, councilor, senator, governor, president. Alongside economic and secular leaders across all industries.

 The lot tends to have failed in lending a voice to the blood of Abel who is no more Able to speak for himself. Cain holds a conviction of not being a brother’s keeper. For the Police is no brother’s keeper. Rather a brother’s killer.

 They shoot with reckless abandon not having the required training for civil ammunition control and safety. The result of the shooting leaves blood on the streets. While trying to defend oneself for doing no wrong, you silenced me for good because you felt you had the advantage.

 The advantage to box me in, rough-handle me, neck-choke me, molest me, harass me, and if I dare challenge you; you shoot me. You shoot me! SARS, keeps leaving the defenseless with SCARS. Because they are Socially Altered Rogues Scavenging the people who have no one to defend them.

Life is fickle! O, you president! O, you governor! O, you senator! O, you councilor and even you Imam and Pastor – yes you pastor. “For the greatest love of all is a love that sacrifices all. And this great love is demonstrated when a person sacrifices his life for his friends” – don’t you even get me started on it not being scriptural. That was Jesus talking just in case you forgot.

Need I remind you, that you pet a tiger don’t make it a pet. When everything is set, it will show you why it was meant to live in the wild.

 There’s a point of outburst reaction from a frustrated man and the event that follows the outburst is left for those still standing to tell the tale.

 What you think protects you, may also one day kill you and your blood will also be on the street’s floor.