CHLOROQUINE NOODLES: The Government Has Been a Bad Boy

Exactly a year ago, i was confined to bed rest, reeking of chloroquine, focused on my phone and the television watching my generation make the change the ones before them could not.

I beamed with pride as i watched the fountain of youth as it advocated against a government of darkness. My father watched his children’s mates confront the fascist government of the day with awe, shock and pride as they resisted bribery or fear and continually maintain a strong protest for days. He watched me drink my herbal concoctions and said:

Àwọn generation yín yìí yi o

He had argued with me at the commencement that greed or fear would deplete their unity so imagine his awe at what seemed like a thread of hope that true nationalism still existed. He had stopped believing because of how compromised organized protests was in his era.

Our T-junction had been blocked by my generation such that no form of movement could occur asides from the DJ who reeled out the latest songs and the participants themselves who cooked on the road.

In all of these, as i watched the news, my heart was divided. It was divided because my sister was stuck between Lagos state and Ondo state.

My pregnant sister was stuck on the road with my little nephew because of an ethnic clash in her side of Lagos. She was lucky she fled just when indiscriminate killings started. I had been worried stiff.

At 10:00pm , my fever ridden body succumbed to a short nap full of hope that the last set of protesters at the Lekki Toll Gate would not be massacred, after all they were clad in the Nigerian flag and the military could never shoot unarmed, submissive, concerned Nigerians covered in the exact item they were trained to protect.

I woke up to calls and messages from fellow comrades who had kept vigil with me, following and supporting the movement with all we had. The military had killed my generation and thrown them into the smelly water that surrounded the controversial hotel with the same name as my favorite noodles. The same one the forever young owner of the state denies ownership of.

My sorrow polluted and overshadowed my fever. My heart bled. I am naturally not one to cry easily but my heart rained teardrops.

I have family in the military and i know how much the flag is respected. They meted out huge punishment even if you as much as mistakenly drop the flag on parade so imagine shooting through the nation you vowed to protect with your life.

For me, it symbolized the end of democracy. I know you probably want to snigger and say:

You just dey know?

But dear reader, it was a confirmation! Some part of us as Nigerians sometimes wish the state of the country is just paranoia in our head. I for one, always wished it was a nasty dream.

Those animals killed people’s children and hid the bodies like it was nothing then insulted all our intelligence by saying what we watched was doctored. They then bought over some unscrupulous àgbà alátẹnujẹ media practitioners to water down the severity of their actions.

Àwọn àgbàlagbà tí o l’ẹkọ̀ọ́! Shioor!

Since then, they keep insulting our intelligence by leading strategic smear campaigns on the leaders of the struggle which in turn has only backfired like a boomerang.

The àgbàyàs might think that they have silenced us but little do they know that you can kill the body but nobody kills the soul! Amandla!

Like that viral video, the government has been a bad boy and they need to be tackled. Tackle we shall!





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