When the cassette tape played, I was seldom interested in the lyrics—how likely was a 6-year-old to care? Yet I could feel sorrow, compassion, and sadness in the singer’s voice. I imagined someone hurting her. Was she hit, betrayed, lonely? Her voice held a mystery I wanted to uncover, but she was miles away from me. Since I could not unravel the enigma, I let the thought go. As I grew older, my mother did not grow tired of playing the cassette tape. I could not hide from hearing it either, unless I could afford a roof over my head. One evening, during the holiday and with no homework to attend to, I had to ask her. ‘Mum, who’s this person always sad when they’re singing?’ ‘You mean all this time, you don’t know it’s Dolly Parton? And who told you she’s sad? When you truly express how you feel, it is not always a sad tale, my girl. Do you even know what this song playing is about?’ ‘Yes, ma. It’s her coat of many colours, just like the one Joseph had, right?’ ‘Eh en. Only hers was give...
WE ALL CAN’T BREATHE Your world is not safe when many around you cannot breathe freely. It is even worse when you try to find air but die in the process. If you ask why you can’t breathe perhaps you will blame yourself for voting in thugs to see to your interests. You will be angry at your father for not fighting against bad governance when it was still a 101 course. You will scorn your ancestors for allowing a stranger into their land and telling them that Sango and Amadioha were the bad guys. But the pressing issue is finding air. So, you do not want the blames to keep tormenting your sanity and chance at life. Thus, you protest, peacefully. Without guns, swords, machetes, you match to various centres in the country, seeking everything that would make you find peace; seeking a good life because you know how blessed your land is. You are proud of what you are doing, you see the future in front of you, the revival of the green land and the peace that would reign. You see your c...