@Alabaster85 on #NigeriaAt54: Menopause is here Nigeria

by Soyombo Ayomikun

She was
A beautiful woman
Chubby cheeks
Cherry eyes
She conceived
But not of a man
We came forth
Her children
She’s our mother
She’s Nigeria
We are her children
We are Nigerians

She never got tired
Of giving birth
So fertile is her womb
Sprouting with seeds each & every day
As they come
She dashes them names
Fatima…Amaka…Alao
Obioma…Abike….Musa
On and on
Everyone inheriting beautiful names
They were not supposed to live as bastards
They were not supposed to live for themselves
They were supposed to live one for another

It never dawned
On her
That her children
Would turn on her
Someday
That her children
Would loot her
Someday
That her children
Would gather at the table of incest
Someday
That her children
Would almost kill her
Someday

She loved them
Nurtured them tenderly
Bathed them in the Niger river
Played with them
On the Mambilla plateau
Giggled with them
On the streets of Oshodi
Chased them in a play
Down the corridors of Arochukwu
She watched them grow
They were a beauty to behold

Her breasts
Were succulent and big
Filled with enough milk
That should last forever
Each day,her children gathered
To suck and play
To suck and sleep
There was no reason to fight
Sweet was the communion

But then
Their innocence began to sublime
Some children started buying cups
With which to keep mama’s breast milk
After everyone sucks
And are supposed to let her rest
They come back to press some more
They fill their cups in a selfish manner
What is supposed to be shared
For a month
They squeeze out
In a day
Then the madness began
Then destruction crawled in

Some other children
Went to buy drums
Drums they roll in
After the usual feeding
To squeeze from a mother
That has never complained of doing her duty
They squeeze and keep
And squeeze and keep
Then parties were formed
All competing to squeeze more than the other
She could not complain
Helplessly she watched on
Wondering
If her children have become bastards

Now they are plotting
To cut off the breasts
One party seeking
To outsmart the other
Thinking it is better
To have the breasts
So as to keep having the milk alone
For eternity, if possible
But, if not a bastard
What child sucks his/her mother
To her very death
What child consumes the source
Of his/her very life
We care no more
We just want more
It’s high time we questioned ourselves
“Nigerians,have we become bastards?”

She was made
To be fertile
Forever
But now the eggs
Which are dreams in her womb
Are drying up
We’ve pushed her
Into menopause
With her lustre
Flushed down the drain
The strength in her bones
Now a forgotten tale
We’ve gathered around her
With axes in our hands
Ready to hack off her breasts
So we can become the sole source of milk
She’s lived just 54 years
But she’s looking like she has lived 540 years
It’s high time we questioned ourselves
“Nigerians,have we become bastards?”

—————

N.B: all the names featured in this piece are fictitious,aside from the places mentioned.

Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.

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cool good eh love2 cute confused notgood numb disgusting fail