The most apt metaphor to describe
My beautiful country, Nigeria, is darkness.
Black is beautiful, as our complexions are dark.
It is so dark in here because there is no light.
It is the kind of darkness that defies court orders;
It will break the laws of Physics or any other law.
Decades ago, because there was no light,
If ever I stood in front of a mirror, I would see nothing.
Today, years after, I dared to look in the mirror.
I saw darkness.
In the darkness, was a man.
A man with Hausa-Fulani kaftan;
A Yoruba hat and an Igbo shoe and walking stick, all dark.
There was no light.
I turned to look at the picture of my late father.
Hanging on the wall of my sitting room.
He was staring at me from beyond instead.
He sees a young man with an Ekid face;
With an Urhobo-Ijaw-Isekiri tongue
And with a hind limb that has gone to Annang.
That is how complicated it is to be from my country.
The fraudulent dark lines
Put in place to divide us into
Ethnicities, religions and parties
Will someday swallow us all like Bermuda Triangle.
But until then,
Within this murky darkness we have created for ourselves,
Must we continue to hobble aimlessly like zombies
Waiting for an apocalypse.