Aluta May 21, 2014

'Embus!' was the alert 'Disembark!' was the notice Aluta was the mission Road block was the tactics A long walk to freedom park was the aim Unity in movement was the strength Songs were the ritual and interlude of every intermission 'Studentship' and peaceful protest were the security Allegiance and obedience were the compass of every passer-by and on-looker. Aluta continua! Victoria aserta!

Bringbackourgirls

Blood pours from her heart through her eyes In hunger, she casts lustful glances at the withered grasses that served her couch. Her bed is empty and moaning her missing weight on it. But she wanders in thoughts Through hopeless deserts Swam the non-finite streams Seeking proximity with her progenitors' quiet cry But still drifts further from the hut of hope. ‪#‎ bringbackourgir ls‬

SEA

Multiple ridges of liquid pictured the frontage before land In a never ending Trojan-Grecian race to battle The sea engage its shore with its many attacks Scandalled feet strive with the intruding sands for a safe return to and fro the shore Your watery rise-fall walls, o sea, are projects not researched For deceitful constructs are they.

As an eye

If Christ is the Heart of God and I am the apple of God's Eye then we are joint heirs for We belong to one Body, The Almighty's. And We work and walk together with Lord Jesus Christ [the Heart] directing me [ the Eye]. Halleluyah!

My Father

Biologically Mr Oyebamiji is my father, Spiritually God Most High, Heavenly The Almighty Eternal and Omnigbogbonise Being. Of course, The Gracious King is not only my Father but also my Mother when all else is and when all else fails to be.

This is IT

'This is it!' said Michael Jackson. But a question is 'What is it?' Using that maxim, I will say, 'This is it.' Where we need to look up to the eternal and store up our treasures and longings. It is it, where we need to stop looking at the passing beauty of the 'NOW'. This is it where nothing lasts and light and darkness engage in a shift. This is it, a place of change. It is a 'somewhere' in which a daily mix of joy and sorrow lives. This is it. Where? What? Why is this it? It is it because we need not rest on our oars for too long to avoid the anger from oceanic current. We are in it but not of it. We are here for it but not with it. And we won't be here in it because we belong not in it. For our return shall be against it. 'IT' is man, no, men. 'IT' is terrestrial, physical, carnal and evilly spiritual. This is IT, 'earth', world, oh the universe. Of course, this is IT, Worldliness. IT is this, our exams hall and departure venue.

Teacher

Sitting at the other end, I thought how fast it had worked and how soon it will be completed. She sat opposite with questions pouring from her lips like the tap in my bathroom. I knew well that I had been late in reporting there but the distance from home and the strangeness of the direction there are to be called into question. 'Have you taught before?' She continued after enquiring about my name. 'Yes ma, but at a JAMB lesson centre' was the reply I can utter. 'and it was just for a month' I thought I added. I was gradually sweating but not perspiring. I never thought there can be a school at that hidden part of the town. The one-storeyed building stood beside a swampy bush which spread to its front. I managed to remember the job-seeking and interviews ethics I had both previously heard and bought books on. 'Okay, write me an application letter,' she requested. 'Ha, I am not here with any paper since I am coming straight from home and I was in a hurry,' I explained pleadingly. 'You can write it here then. Have this sheet of paper,' she passed a torn sheet of 'higher education' paper to me. 'Do you need pen?' 'No, ma. I have a pen here.' 'Who should I address it to, ma?' I asked. 'You can address it to the proprietress.' she answered. Few minutes later, a satisfactory comment was passed on the letter and the salary and class to be taught ironed out. The introduction to the teacher-in-charge was swiftly done and I was left to check the scheme of work alongside rewrite the timetable. I was on this when the male teachers came to introduce themselves and welcome me into the system. The 'break-time' came and went by but I decided to wait till the closing hour. I played with my phone and went through the strange-looking book opened before me several times only to try and grab the teaching ethics and lessons of my soon-to-be class. I obediently listened to instructions from the teacher-in-charge in readiness for the next day when my payment will start counting.