By Chudi Okoye
Nov 26, 2021
The struggle may look like lunacy
To those seduced into vain ecstasy
By the Nigeria of their vast fantasy.
To them, the activists are arsonists
Who, in bouts of revolutionary fervor,
Treat the commoners as cannon fodder
Tipping their lives into needless bother
To rev their rabble of raucous ardor.
The rabble roils the genteel sensibilities
Of ‘patriots’ pumped by the possibilities
Of Nigeria, this giant dwarf of Africa;
It punctures the perfect illusions
Of those tortured romantics clutching
To the dream of a nation lurching
From zig to imponderable zag
Driven by demons deliberately divined
By a colonial creator seeking an afterlife
Of postcolonial sway in its African jewel.
But History will beam with benevolence
Upon the rabble if it curbs its excesses
And presses, thru curated conferences,
Its indictment of this monumental error
Striving, thru strident pain and horror
Until justice, now cowering in terror,
Emerges in towering form and splendor.