The Massacre that was...

... And still continues to be.

As I pick up my laptop to begin writing this post, as I begin typing but delete almost every as soon as it's typed over and over again, I feel many things, none of them warm or fuzzy, pain, unworthiness, anger, guilt are some of the more explicable ones.

A year ago today, the massacre that put a block of concrete at the end of the proverbial tunnel - preventing the last flicker of light from finding its way in occurred. The defining moment for so many of us, who had previously tried grasping on to tiny strings of what some may call "hope" which I now term ignorance and naivety. See, no one would have expected it to end that way you know? It was peaceful, the most peaceful it could have been. What could be more peaceful than walking with your hands in your pocket? what could be more peaceful than standing in your compound? What could be more peaceful than singing, laughing, making jokes while trying to create a Nigeria worthy of dreaming about, a Nigeria that would not be the source of nightmarish dreams? What could be more peaceful than cooking and giving food to even those who were symbols of the problem? Alas, this "peace" did not mean anything, we were killed, slaughtered, worse than animals at the slaughterhouse who knew from birth that such was their destiny. Was it our destiny to be killed in this way? Who gave us this destiny? Was it our destiny to carry such burden of emotional and physical trauma? To be brutally awakened to the realization that there might not after all be a Nigeria of our dreams. 

Now a year later, I feel unworthy, like the impostor who should have no opinion, after all, I wasn't there when the police threw canister after canister of teargas, or when they decided the best solution to this "thorn" was water, as hot as it could get. I wasn't there when we ran and ran wondering if the next bullet would find its resting place in the soft mass of our brains, I wasn't there when we fell injured, bruised, and broken. I was there though, online, keeping the trends alive, donating, keeping the international community in the know, fostering the unity between every Bola, Ahmed, Chioma, Efe whether they lived in Saskatchewan or in Mubi, I was there when we kept vigil and prayed fervently in hopes that the change we desperately needed had come and was here to stay. I was there.

A year later, the story is not any different.

   "Nigeria we hail thee,

    Our own dear native land,

    Though tribe and tongue may differ,

    In brotherhood, we stand..."

❤,

Yahdii.