Fuck Nigeria! Fuck The Government

 

Fuck the name
Fuck her government
Fuck every damn shit she has
Fuck every fucking person she has ever fucked
Fuck everyone who thinks he can save her
And fuck everyone hitting her on the knees
By using her for a pillow
Or sucking every drop of the drink in her vessel
Only spotting the pimples on her face,
Taking her shots from wrong angles
Or by any other fucked means
Amen!
Those motherfuckers don’t care a hoot about us. They have never and I’m not sure they ever will. So, why the heck do we give a hoot about them? Why the hell are we not turning to enemies of the government?

 

 

Fuck her!
She’s left her children hungry long enough

Fuck her!
She can’t even light her lamp for her kids
She doesn’t even have a lamp

Fuck her!
She’s a slut
Who in a bid to protect her virginity, gives her lovers blowjobs

 

 

Accuse me of treason! I hate the Nigerian government. They talk so many crap about so many things as if they care. The fact is – they don’t. The fact is, we know. Another fact is, we care. The worst fact is, we are scared. I don’t think America is free from corruption. No country is. So, what the heck is the problem with Nigeria? We are not just ignorant, we are scared like shit! I mean me! I also mean you.

 

 

Fuck her!
She’s the heart-broken drama queen
Who only hurt those kind enough to love her

Fuck her!
She’s the lady
Who values her pussy
Than her trade and kids
So the whole world fucks her
But she’s penniless
And her kids are hungry

 

It pains me that my friends who had great dreams back then in the university are jobless now. It pains me that I still sleep in darkness! It pains me that there’s no air-port in Anambra state. You want to count the number of great men from the state? Where exactly do you want me to start from? It pains me that I can not feel safe in the street once its 10pm. It pains me that I went to a fucked up university. And UNN is one of the best in Nigeria. It pains me that the government gave me no platform to express myself. It pains me that all my friends have issues with Nigeria. And its maddening that no one is doing anything about it coz everyone is scared. We’ve read a lot about those who ended up dead and or frustrated staking their heads out for this country.  And we don’t want to be frustrated. So we keep quiet. Don’t tell me you are not dying slowly. Don’t lie to yourself.

 

 

Fuck her!
She is the dirty girl wearing rich cologne
Tryna seal her dirts with the wealth
She could have saved with a good bath.

Fuck her!
She’s the girl who pads up her boobs
When enough care and pride in her real size could make them sexier…
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I’m not the smartest Nigerian of my generation. I’ve spoken with guys who could do wonders if they could get a platform. I understand that a stronger person could make a platform for himself if he tries hard enough. But for how long can we be strong without supports? My friend Arizo asked me how I intend to make the impacts I want to make when being a youth seems like its my greatest curse. I’ve thought about that for a while and I really can’t come up with an answer for that. But the fact is, we live in a country that really had and have no plan for us. We are from a country that treats us like illegitimate kids. We feel we have voices but there’s no one ready to hear us. Our parents are too focused on their intelligence to want to hear us. Our uncles giggles when we talk about our dreams. Our aunties only smile to and at us when we share our dreams with them. No one believes in us. We are just there, hoping to be heard. And no one is willing to listen.

 

 

Fuck her!
She’s the abused girl
Who yells only of her abuse
And forgets to sing of her dimples…

Fuck her!
She’s the prettiest girl in the class
Who’s let everyone spit on her
Till all she sees in the mirror
Is herself at the back of the class
Ashamed of the wrinkles she doesn’t have…

 

The thing is, we have more trust in Wizkid than we have on our government. I have a better chance of winning a bet on Olamide’s next song being a hit than on Nigeria being better… Yet, we are scared. What are we scared of. The government can’t get better. And we know… What I don’t know is why we keep hanging hopes on them. What I don’t know is why we can’t take away that hope and place it on something else; ourselves.

 

 

Fuck her!
Her boobs are fallen
She wasn’t even breast-feeding her kids

Fuck her!
She’s the girl who cries while beaten
Coz she was too scared to slap back
Coz the world calls her lower

 

Anyhow we want to think it. If Nigeria has any hope; no matter how slim it it; it is us; the Young Nigerians. We are the only hope this country has. Our government have failed us. Our parents have failed us. Our lecturers have failed us. Our other relatives have failed us. The only person who hasn’t yet is us. We’ve not failed ourselves yet. The question is ‘Do we want to fail ourselves? We are all we’ve got. We should wake up in the morning before them and set forth for our hustles. We should ignore their criticisms and do what we want with our lives. We should say ‘Fuck you’ to the government and be the best we could be for ourselves…

 

 

Fuck her!
Soon, her oil would be dried up
And she’d have nothing to show
For all the beauty
She could see nature gave her

Fuck her!
She’s the dumb girl
All you need to fuck her
Is a smile; despite how fake

 

We shouldn’t fail ourselves. Coz we are all we’ve got. All these old men would be gone tomorrow. And all that would remain would be all we allowed. So, why the fuck are we not fighting this fucked up government. You don’t want to be seventy and live in the regrets of not doing your best in keeping something worthwhile for your kids. Our parents have failed us. We can’t do same!

 

Once again, ‘FUCK THE government!’ Guess why I used the small letters for them, they don’t exist! Arse-holes!

 

 

Fuck her!

She deserves all she’s got

Fuck her!
She should go to hell if she can’t get better!

Oh! Damn
If anyone ever get fucked this much
And all she needs is a closer look
From herself
At herself
… Well…
Fuck her!
If she doesn’t get it still

 

 

 

 

Why Boiz No Dey Smile

 

Look! Yes, na you I dey talk to… Look at me… Look at me very-very well and tell me how I look. You think say I dey joke with you? Now, focus! Do you know why you don’t think I have dimples? No! No guess coz I fit break your head if you no gimme correct guess. Now, listen make I tell you why – I no dey smile. Now, you fit guess… Yes, I’m an angry young-man! I don’t know about you…

 
I be Naija boy. And if there’s anything every Naija boy shares deeply with Naija babes, it’s the fact that we are angry. We are tired of waking up each morning, wishing it’s our own apartment we woke up in. We are tired of calling our parents every now and then, arguing over how fast we lavished our previous month’s upkeep. We are tired of washing our uncle’s cars; cars we are not even allowed to drive. We are tired of sticking to a girl we hate her face but can’t stop seeing coz we are interested in her father’s money. We are tired of calling ourselves graduates before illiterates who spend more in clubs per night more than we’ve earned all our lives. We are tired of reading Vanguard or The Sun. Why the hell would we be reading their boring columns and lies if not for the hope of stumbling on some great job opportunity? Who wants to read horribly written articles about things he doesn’t give a hoot about? Mtcheeew…

 
We are tired of watching African Magic; there are better places to go hear fake American and or British accents and watch fake people. We just don’t have enough to subscribe and stream videos on Netflix. And those of us wey even get the money no fit stream coz internet for here na die… You want to talk about NTA? Mttchew… I think say you dey serious sef!

 

We are tired of wishing we were born in a better country. We are tired of listening to crappy Nigerian songs. But they seem to be the only things that reflect our wishes, dreams and frustrations. And don’t forget they also make us dance. We are tired of listening to Wole Soyinka speak ‘English’. Na grammar we go chop ni? We are tired of NEPA or whatever name they call themselves now! Nawa ooo! As our depression reach, at least make we see light charge our phones na!
 

We are tired of watching Nigerian matches. If we need heart-ache, the frequent shocks we get from riding through pot holes should be enough for us. We are tired of our government. We don’t even know what government means coz we used expo in answering the question ‘Define Government’ in our first ‘Government’ exam. As una no give us better Government teacher, una no wan make we pass too? Dey there na…
 

We are tired of being told we know nothing; we look like Jon Snow? If you really wanted us to, why the hell didn’t you teach us like he was? Must you try kill us too! Well, your juju no work; we no go die like am. We are tired of being called lazy. Why the hell would you want to blame us for learning what you taught us? We are tired of all the names we are called; you don’t even want to know the names we wish we could call you all… Fuck it! Why be pretentious here? The truth is; you all would jump into River Niger if you hear our perceptions of you.  And we are tired of being told we are lost. Come on, you guys told us our language was vernacular, punished us in school for speaking it, taught us that putting suit under our hot weather is the definition of being educated, now you still want to blame us for being led astray by Western culture? No be thunder go fire una?

 

We are tired of being called the future leaders. If Atiku couldn’t trust OBJ when he was promised ‘the next’ tenure, how could we trust you old boiz? I mean, no be una extend retirement age? We are tired of Sunday sermons, that’s why we make sure our phones are fully charged every Sunday morning. We are tired of school too; who the heaven wants to stress himself for five years only to end up suffocating on a job hunting cue? We saw the pictures on Facebook; at least Mark Zuckerberg was cool enough to give us a channel to kill off the depression you choke us with and get informed along the line. We are tired!
 

And we are sick and tired of being tired! And if the rest are not tired of keeping quiet, well, Ebuka Njoku is.
 

So, while you spend your days wishing things could get better, I want to tell you the reality, they won’t; until you do. We may spend the whole day blaming our parents for not giving us enough to fly, the society for not giving us enough support to ride or the government for not giving us enough platforms to stand. Well, ride on, bro; keep up with the blames – you hear?
 

But ask yourself this ‘How long do you have to dream?’ How long do you still have to call yourself ‘young’?… How long do you think you could still hang around your father’s or relative’s couch? How ready are you for that job you’re hunting? If you are, what then is stopping you from getting it? How well have you really positioned yourself for that position you want? What would you tell your children tomorrow? Are you still angry? Should you even still be angry? Why should you still be angry? Who you wan vex for – the people who’ve refused giving you what you think you deserve or yourself, for not being strong and gutsy enough to go get it yourself?
 

Boiz no dey smile, no be because say boiz no dey happy… Boiz no dey smile coz boiz dey sleep…

 

 

RIP

I think the greatest problem with the world is: instead of focusing on being good, most of us focus on looking good. The fact is, when you are good, everyone around you would know. The question is – what exactly does it mean to be good? And how long can one be good in a world so… Fill up the gap…

 

Visit the motherless babies home, pay someone’s school fees, send a friend some money and not worry about his pay-back promises, help an old woman, help a brother with some joint, try make her cum when you lay hands on her pussy, get your kid sister a nice dress, buy your uncle a bottle of beer, teach your kid brother a thing or two, tell your kid sister she’s beautiful and say nice words to people. What else? You know…

 

Some times, I find my conscience judging me. No judgement haunts more than that. And sometimes, I ask myself ‘Do other people have conscience too?’ Yeah, the question sounds childish but really, how did the world become so fucked up? Maybe that’s a line I caught from Sense8. But really, is the world not fucked up? Why the hell should you care? Why do I? How is my conscience making me a better person? What the fuck is the job of that conscience when we could shut it up in a blink?

 

What do we need guns for? Billions of dollars are spent on ammunition yearly. I mean, in a countries where some can’t afford school fees. How many kids are serious with education in America? You want to talk about Africa? I live in Nigeria and here people don’t pray for a better country, we pray for our relatives to get great political appointments so we could take some bites of the National Cake. That’s why everyone who doesn’t have a politician relative is mad at politicians. In most cases, it’s not coz the politicians are horrible at their jobs – one doesn’t need a 6th sense to figure that out, it’s just coz we are not the ones enjoying bites of the National cake. How else could you explain the fact that after fifty years gaining independence, a blessed country like ours still talk of fuel scarcity? And the fuel’s price keeps getting higher. Damn! I’m diverting. This was meant to be aimed at everybody, not my fucked-up lovely country.

 

I think it’s high time every cock-sucking newspaper house gets closed, coz one could hardly read truth off them. But the fact is, if you do that, millions of people would be out of jobs. And the depression could cause something worse than what ever America did to Hiroshima. So, how the hell could you get the world better? You don’t want to know the number of people the arrest of Frank Lucas; a black-American drug lord, put out of jobs. You don’t want to know the number of people who died as a result of that and you don’t want to know the blood he wasted to move his dope while he was in business. And you don’t want to know the number of kids the dope numbed their heads or the life lessons everyone who experienced that got. So, how do you start judging Frank Lucas? If you had his kind of temperament and his exact life experience, you may have ended up the same person, just probably with a different name. So, from which stand point should we judge? Why should we even judge? Why the hell does anyone need a conscience?

 

Okay… You have a great conscience… So, what? Another person has a great voice and another can buy your whole family and knock them out of existence with either money, pussy, manipulations… You get the point? There is as much problem on earth like there is none. The only problem in the world is that humanity is fucked up. The greater problem is, you can’t help it. Yeah! Henry Ford made automobile production easier and made it cheaper for people. Who hasn’t lost a loved one to an auto-crash? Or does this shit only happen in Nigeria? The summary of this crap I’m writing here is ‘The world is not fucked up’, your thinking makes it so and more. You may be as depressed I am but your depression would only eats your damn brain up. And the world would keep being what it is despite how dark your soul gets. But the much you could do is live your life, call yourself a hero, do what you got to do and make sure you at least smile a second before you die – whatever kills you. And let that smile say ‘Bye’. Coz those who take the problem of the world at heart, die on the cross like Jesus – with two thieves by the side and a lot of people ready to kill him if he ever shows up again. You know why? Although he changed the world, he never made it a better place. The world is meant to be fucked-up, just don’t fuck up yourself worrying about it.

 

On that note, I would say ‘RIP to every dead person. RIP to trying to make the world a better place. RIP to my conscience – I hope you could someday, stop haunting me, Bitch…’

 

The Church Ish…

 

Growing up, I was always wondering why my dad never went to church. The only time he went to church with us was when my younger sister was about four months old. It was for her dedication; a christian ritual where a new baby is brought before the almighty God. Our ancestors did such ritual. The only difference  was – the dedication was to other gods. Nevertheless, my mom was always taking us to church. At a point, I grew old enough to take myself. I even gave my life to Christ so many times, I lost counts…

 

Growing up comes with lots of things – from tapping some money off your father to striking a balance between rights and wrongs. Most times we fail; if those who taught us rights and wrongs could cook up stories to buttress their points, how far could we rightly go? So, amidst the craze coming-of-age is all about, I caught myself swaying from the preacher boy to a lost kid, to whatever I am now. Often times, people ask me how it happened, why I stopped going to church, why I started questioning the god image, how I started making jokes about bible characters, heaven and hell and everything the church is based on. The truth is, I really can’t say. We are all made up of our life experiences, temperaments, associations and learning. Upon reading Ken Katas ‘Mechanism of Sitting Down To Read’, I learnt how to sit down and study. At fourteen, I read ‘Think And Grow Rich’. Once I dropped that book, I started questioning everything I had been taught. Then I also read ‘The 48 Laws Of Power’ and ‘Rich Dad, Poor Dad’ and went mad!

 

Gaining admission to the universities didn’t help issues. I personally avoided taking a course in Philosophy so as to avoid coming across debates about god. But I was stuck with other things; literary works that questioned everything I thought life was all about. I even read a short story narrating Judas Iscariot’s involvement in Christ’s kidnap from Judas’ point of view. And soon, I caught myself googling up religion related issues. I even called Barrack Obama an anti-Christ after reading his ‘Audacity of Hopes’… These days I laugh while listening to the audio book. That dude is a visionary. Or was. Well, let’s not go into that. In December 2010, a couple of months after gaining admission into the university, I didn’t only start finding the idea of schooling ridiculous, I started making my first step to hell…

 

Over time, I kept my beliefs to myself, I only stopped going to church. Questions after questions, I started opening up. But the receptions have never been fair. Most times I laugh about it, some times I make a little quibble, other times, I really get pissed off and walk away…

 

The most disturbing of all the reactions, are the ones I get from my childhood friends when they learn I’m no longer a christian. Guess what I hate the most; the I-will-always-remember-you-in-my-prayers moment. I mean, if every prayer gets answered, the poor who are the most religious in the world would probably be manning Bill Gate’s desk in every sector of life. There would be no malaria, wars, death, diseases, mass failure in exams or loss of contracts if prayer works. Well, the bible says ‘Your prayers don’t get answered coz you pray amiss’… So, why on earth do people keep wasting their time praying for my lost soul?

 

The thing is – I really don’t see the essence in creation when everything dies at a point. I really don’t see the sense in placing a fruit in the fictional garden. If God was all knowing, he would have known that humans mess up with free-will. I mean, Christians claim he created humans, right? Any father who places a pack of poison somewhere in his apartment and warns his kid to near everything else in the house aside that, should take the blame if he finds his kid dead of poisoning on his return. It’s simple Cat’s string theory. How can’t the Omniscient god know that? I see no sense in the heaven and hell part of the story. Like really? Everyone who is not a Christian would end up in hell? Hey, find a better tale for your kids while advising them to abstain from sex. I think ‘HIV’ works these days. I really don’t see a reason to worship a god who opines I should forsake my siblings or friends simply because of their choice of worship. I see no sense in hating every Muslim simply coz instead of reading the bible or bowing in churches, they chose The Holy Koran and Mosque. I see no reason why rules in a country should be made with considerations to religious leaders. I see no sense in having someone tell me how to live my life when he hasn’t clearly figured out a way to live his. I see no sense in poor people giving out the money they should put into better use for church offering. I mean, most church general overseas are richer than all the members of their church. So, how can anyone tell me that church or religion in general is different from other life sectors; a business.

 

Maybe, I would end up in hell but come on, I really think heaven would be boring if it’s real… And I didn’t mean no disrespect; its just me doing what I love doing; pouring my heart out. Contrary to your belief, people don’t leave churches because they are depressed. Its just the same experience as becoming a christian after years of practicing Islam or the other way round. And if any part of this article gets you annoyed; you should know that’s exactly how annoyed I get when someone tries choking me with his biblical verses. In simple summary; if your life is amazing enough, you wouldn’t need to preach the gospel to any one; the glitz of your life would be enough…

 

Thank you…

 

Why God Won’t Bless Nigeria

 Image by Neec Imagery

What exactly do we want God to do for Nigeria? Tell me… Everyone prays for something. While the kid prays for a better country, the youth prays for spaces to light their spot, men pray for a bite of the cake and the old prays for the kids’ bites of the cake. So, the day Onyeka Nwelue asked me ‘Are you Patriotic?’ Before I could answer, he said ‘I’m not talking about now, I’m talking about you after you have seen what patriotism has done to people’. So let’s for a moment kiss some pot and ask each other ‘Are you Patriotic?’ And when the other shouts ‘Yes’, take his hand, ask him to show you proofs better than their vocal response. How many of my mates can recite the national anthem? Am I even sure I remember those nice lines I watch people sing bluntly? So, what exactly do we want God to do for us? To make us better? Isn’t it? My question is, can’t we make ourselves better?

 

I don’t know the God you pray to. But I trust your image of God is something similar to some sexy dude who looks thirty but commands a know it all aura and some magical powers beyond every super power ability we’ve seen in movies. And I trust we imagine him sitting on a throne made with the finest of every fine thing. And pretty sexy but innocent looking female angels surround him and always sing to his glory. What else? And he created you. And he’s in charge of everything good on earth. Including helping you get your first blow job. Yeah? Oh! Wasn’t that God too? So, the testimony you gave in the church about the contract you got by bribing some government official wasn’t God too? So, the people killed during elections weren’t the work of God every politician appreciates on TV whenever they win election also God’s acts? Oh! That wasn’t God, that was you, right? But you could have written a bad-ass proposal and got your self a great street credibility instead. But bribing is easier. At least, if the construction lasts for three years, you know of companies whose own didn’t last past a season. So, how is devil involved in this shameless blame game we play in Nigeria? And how do we call upon God to clear a mess we brought upon ourselves? And how stupid do you think God is? It’s clear in your bible ‘Your fucking prayers don’t get answered because you pray amiss’ You don’t ask God to help you get a job and wake up the next day by twelve pm and spend the rest of the day, eating, chasing girls and hash-tagging everything on every social media.

 

I know God is kind but he’s not stupid. And if we believe we were created in his image, that means we should understand that his thoughts are extensions of ours’ and we all have abilities to make miracles. Niggar, I’m not talking about TB Joshua show, I’m talking about the miracle in your hand, the technology you’re using to read this. The you that is smart and blessed enough to have access to this and understand it and every damn thing Nigeria has and could have. I’m saying that the first steps towards having a better Nigeria should be for all us us to really start wishing for it till the wish turns to a psychotic dream. I want to be rich! But I can’t feel safe here if I can’t drive around Ajegunle at night and not have to look around, scared I may be attacked any second. So, what sense does it really make in being rich in a fucked up country? So, why can’t we focus more on something that binds us all – the fucking name; NIGERIA. The fact is, if Nigeria gets better, our lives would instantly get better. I mean, how can we be better than America if we don’t stop worshiping them? How can we be praying for a better Nigeria for years and not stand up for a while and try work the prayers out? Coz, if you think about it well, the prayers have been answered already,

 

We are the eighth most populated country on earth. How many countries have more crude oil deposit in the world? And we are branded very hospitable. We have over 200 ethnic groups so we have enough cultural back-ground to fuck the world tourism-wise. And we have good lands and great climate conditions. And bet me, we are the most untapped country on earth. But these are the only things we’ve achieved while praying:

#  Let the crude oil we are blessed with turn into our greatest curse.

 Allow selfishness make us fight each other so we the strength of many has been shrink to the weakness of the divided.

# Look for helps from the same countries that ruined us.

 Love blame games more than PS 2. So we are saints living in the land of sin.

#  Value money more than the brain to make and manage it – so we remain poor and        frustrated.

#  Never try to understand that we don’t love Nigeria because we don’t love ourselves and the reason we turn our eyes off is not because of others’ disappointment but because we doubt if we can do better ourselves. Taking off the eyes seem to bury the guilt. But, does it?

 

Grammar don finish for my mouth. But before I drop my pad, lemme chip in another question.  If you were God, would you still want to bless Nigeria? Now, you’re not – do you think we are not blessed already? So fuck prayers, if we really love Nigeria, we should fucking show it in actions not in blabbing like I do or opening NGOs we turn into paying careers or cracking our voices in churches. Coz, God has already blessed Nigeria with you and that is enough. Unless you are not a blessing. Then, you are our curse…
Bye-bye…

 

 

I Hate Being Black

Some months ago, Uche asked me if I’ve ever been a slave; if I’ve ever been manacled and dragged to a land I know nothing about; if I’ve ever towed a field without the expectation of some financial benefits. If… Shit!

 

Here is the answer, Empress, I don’t know what it feels like to be in chains, I’ve never been forced to travel and I’ve never been forced to work for free, but have I ever been a slave? No! I AM A slave; just a new one. A slave is what I have always been. That’s why I’m not proud of being black.

 

The greatest pain is not that my great-grand father came from the bottom of mankind. It’s not the fact that my grand-dad also came from there or that my father was born from there. My greatest pain is that I’m from the bottom of mankind. If being at the bottom of the class is your greatest dream; it’s not mine; it’s never been; but in the class of race; I was born there, I grew up there and I am still there. I hate the fact that after years of slavery, colonialism and celebration of independence in different African nations, no African nation can honestly boast of independence. That’s why I hate being black. 

 

Everyone who knows me knows I don’t give much damn about my physical looks. I’m short! I’m what some people call chocolate; not dark and not fair; whoever coined that word. I don’t go about measuring my dick but no girl has ever call it small and I’m sure none would coz it ain’t. I’m really not sure I know about my nose but my feet are pretty short and firm. I’m as black as black could be. And I’m proud of that; I’m just not proud of what the skin; black connotes. I hate the fact that the country with the highest economy in Africa depends mostly on fuel for her survival. It happens to be my country. And fuel happens to be costly here. I hate that! I hate being black.

 

I live in a country where its every young person’s dream to get a degree in America, Asia or Europe. Guess why? Those are the places the best formal education could be obtained. You have a better chance of learning about African Literature in an average American University than in the best of African university. That’s how horrible it is. And you want me to be proud of that? Fuck it! I’m not!

 

I grew up reading Chinua Achebe, Buchi Emecheta and Wole Soyinka. In the university, I wasn’t only introduced to Black American and African literature, I was also introduced to rap; thank God for Stizzy. I went from being a Lil Wayne fan to loving Drake’s lines to getting matured enough to love the classy Jay Z, the egomaniacs but free spirited Kanye West, the rhyme-master and dangerous spitter called Eminem, the bitter Immortal Technique, the sad but cool J Cole and the intellectual Kendrick Lamar. Currently, it’s the genius; Tupac. In other words, I grew up from thinking that Nigeria was fucked up to understanding that the black race is fucked up. We are so fucked up that Eminem took over an art that was the pride of black youths’ culture. You can’t expect me to be proud of a race that lost out even in its own race. The fact that it’s my race is just a coincidence.

 

Studying African literature in school, I learnt a great deal about how Europe robbed us and fucked us all over. But if there’s anything I’ve learnt this year, it’s the fact that Europe never robbed us as much as we robbed ourselves. The truth is, the rest of the world has never and could never rob us as much as we have robbed ourselves, now rob ourselves and keep robbing ourselves. When you blame a cun man who you let into your house and swindle you of your money for stealing from you, he would apologise to you and come back later to steal your house. Next time, he would come for your life. Guess who the smart swindler is and who the dumb man is. I’m not proud of being dumb. I’m not proud of being black!

 

Call me a hypocrite. Call me any shit you want to call me, but you can’t deny the truth I say. We would want to shout down every wall whenever a white cops shoots down a black dude. But Americans are not responsible for the Boko-Haram attacks in Nigeria. They are not responsible for the massacres that go on in different African nations at intervals. They don’t force black Americans to kill each other in street brawls. The fact that we keep crying and begging for the help of other races is a proof of our inferiority complex. And I hate feeling inferior. Why the hell won’t I hate being black?! Tell me!

 

I feel bad each time I think about my kids. I wouldn’t want my son to have that feel an average black person gets while standing beside a white, yellow, purple or whatever colour we call people of other races. I want him to get that feel that he’s not in China because that’s the only place of his salvation. I don’t want him to suck up to American lecturers coz he feels he’s lucky to be studying in America. I want him to travel the world taking everybody he meets as a fellow human not a superior figure. I don’t even want him to study in America. I want our schools to be as great if not better than whatever America could offer. Ain’t that a dream for the moon? Can you now see why I hate being black? Coz we doubt ourselves even far more than other races doubt us.

 

I feel like a pussy. I’ve been fucked a million times; don’t call me a whore if you’re black. Coz you’re a bitch. All a black man knows is how to cry; however we learnt it. If we could go from having Egypt; a one time world power, to being slaves, to being freedom fighters, to getting a seat in the white house, what the fuck can’t we do? So, why the hell do we still bend over to be banged? Are we not tired of being raped all over? Must we keep letting the emotional and physical wounds trouble us when we could stand up, appreciate what we are left with and build ourselves from it.

 

I am not proud of being black and I can never be till every black person on earth stops whimpering about how unfair the rest of the world is to us. I can never be proud of my race until we come to the realisation that we are our greatest problem.

 

Until then, I’m only proud of my skin; not being black coz the word ‘BLACK’ in my dictionary connotes and denotes everything I can never be proud of being.

 

Are you proud of being black?

Am I The Only 1?

   
 
 I just finished smoking a wrap of joint. What do you call it; igbo, weed, pot or marijuana? Yeah! So, you know now!

 

I’m 23. People say I’m the most confused human being they’ve ever met. Really? I’m confused? You bet I am. But am I the most confused? Am I the only confused? I don’t think so. Every goddamn person on earth is confused; hence the word; God damned; just join the two words together and take away the ‘ed’. One thing I am is the dude who is not ashamed of his confusion.

 

I love pusies! I love girls! I love good cloths and like my friend; Dera would say ‘I love love’. But beyond everything, I love aesthetics, I love art, I’m mad about pictures, I could marry WORDS if she were human, I adore excellence, I love growth, I love success and I love better, although I’d prefer marrying best. And I do love myself. In other word, I love giving myself the best. You know why? I guess your guess is right. Its the same reason you want the best for yourself; coz you think you deserve the best. You do, as much as I do.

  Image Courtesy: Femd Daniel

  My question is, if you want the best for yourself; why do you keep letting people tell you the best for you? How can they know your best better than you? Ever thought of that? Well, do now! I really can’t understand why we keep shrinking ourselves to fit into others’ idea of what’s good for us. I mean, we pride ourselves as smart; yeah…? Or am I the only one?

 

I think Nigerian youths are the most pretentious people on earth. How do manage to suck up to things we don’t like and spend the night wishing we could? We literary suck up to everything; lecturers, parents, house neighbours, uncles, friends, the society at large and so on… Yet, when someone stands up against those people, we call that person (Who is doing what we wish we could do) ‘crazy’!

 

I mean, who really loves lectures? Who really doesn’t want to be a boss? Who doesn’t want to face the dad and say ‘Dad, I’m matured enough to make my own choice!’. Who doesn’t dream of telling his state governor ‘Dude, you shouldn’t be doing this or that’. Who doesn’t want to fly to the moon or change one thing about the world? You? Really? You just have been marginalised to think you can’t; SIMPLE!

 

So, before you look at that guy who spends more time in studio recording his songs than in your boring lecture room and call him ‘MAD’, before you tell that writer friend of yours to tone down his writing, before you advice your friend to kiss his parents arse, before you say shit about the smart girl who turned down a banking job for her dreams, before you call that dude who hate going to church ‘Devilish!’, before you call that hot girl defending her dressing ‘a slut’, before you move on to the next thing you wanna do now ask yourself this simple question ‘When was the last time I did something I really liked, something that makes me feel good, something I was only implored to do by myself, something I couldn’t believe I could do, something I’m really proud of, something brave, something original…?’

 

When?

 

Don’t lie to yourself; you are crazy; I’m not.