Is Nigeria worth Dying For?
By: Abdulwaheed Sofiullahi.
A vague indeterminate sound deep in my throat, when I had been crossing roads to paddle my own canoe — to the successful road. I was in my juvenile period; when my graceless friend called me a servant of poverty. He was a education fellow. It was pitiable, for the heat of the blush fires merely added to the fire of the sun.
I cried loudly as I ran to Mama.
“what happened my son?” She asked anxiously.
“Mama! My friend called me a servant of poverty, and it’s because he’s educated.”
When a person has not seen another person’s farm, he believes that his father’s farm is the largest in the world
“You also know that we can’t give the sun’s light glancing off their back and the merciless tint of bronze.” She said as while tears rolled drown her cheeks.
“I can’t send you to school, but I’ll try my best if that’s your wish.”
Mama was a penny trader, she raised the monies for me to be educated
Since our country Nigeria denied us free Education. Like we traveled by starlight and lay under the shade of their mats by day until the sand became hot to lie upon. recounting only that night when the journey began again. many failed to rise from their mats and that those who did stagger up cast furtive glances at the silent shelters and set their strong faces to the South.
It’s like a drama, unanimously I finished my education by suffering and smiling. And my mother’s ornament and fineries taken from her velvets of soft elusive light and necklace of pure sound lying coil upon coup down her resplendent breasts: Corals and blue chalcedonic, jaspers and a gates veined like rainbows. She danced to the tune of happiness, when I told her that I’ve finished my undergraduate program.
“So fast! Óko mi! (Óku órí íre) Congratulations.” Mama cried with joy.
“Mama, you’re the source of success, and you shall rape the gains by the grace of God,” I pray loudly and hugged her.
“Émí Àjéré Ómó mí Óóééé, Émí Àjéré Ómó mí Ó!
Èní sé Égúsí Nín Gàdún Óbé, Éní Ló Élúbó, Nín Gàdún Óká, Émí Àjéré Ómó mí Ó!”
(Mama sang and danced until her cheeks vomited the sweat of joy.)
“Mama, It hasn’t completed yet. I’m going for ‘NYSC’ and I have been posted to an unknown village and I shall find the place.” I called her attention with an unexpected utterance.
“But……. What’s ‘NYSC’ after you’d finished your Study?” She asked.
“National Youths Service Corps, that’s the Full meaning of It. As It’s stated In the constitution; I must serve Nigeria after the program.” I told her.
“I wish you the best of luck,” Mama replied with sadness.
I was On the list of batch “B” Stream “2”. I left my town to the place that I was posted. I felt excited when I reached there peacefully. It was a great experience; meeting many corp members In the camp. Before we were split to different places. I was given a school to teach in. The environment wasn’t conducive.
I entered the principal’s office. And I was welcomed warmly. I started teaching those students. One day I noticed that a student was sent out for school for nonpayment of fees. A son of the poor like me. I pitied him and helped him to pay the school-fees. The following day, I entered the class and I saw a student telling me that he has paid the school-fees while the principal denied that the money hasn’t been paid by him. I rushed to the principal’s office. And explained to him and asked him to give me the list where he has been writing those that have paid their school-fees before.
“Mr Copper, that’s not your problem. You are here to teach not to know about school-fees!” Principal replied me harshly.
“But sir, this is a government school?” I coiled silently.
“And what’s your problem?”
“Oga, Copper. You must leave our school.” He voices out loudly.
“I can’t because you have been disintegrating the colour of our country.” I replied him and left his office angrily.
It was around 9’O’clock am, When I was coming back from the village’s night Market, I was attacked by two men. I was beaten almost to stupor, and they warned me either to leave the school or else I will be killed.
Mama called me on phone, when she heard about my situation.
“Sob! Please, don’t let my struggle be In vain. Son! Protect your life and leave the place.” She talked to me on cell phone while she cried.
“Mama. this is corruption, and I must fight it. This man is corrupt and I must exposed him. Till I die, I shall continue fighting for my county.
“Are you alright?” Mama replied with surprised.
“Dying for which country?” She asked and ended the call.
“Uhn! Nigeria, where wrong is right and right is wrong. Where our leaders are rotating the higher chairs within themselves, they’d Implemented “Nottooyougtorun” useless bill. For poor, or for rich people?”
If you were In my shoes, would you die for this country? Is Nigeria worth doing for?
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