‘Nigeria is like a wonderful lie a sincerely misguided old mentor told his protégé to placard his impatience towards doing daily chores he must learn to do. Problem is the protégé believed the lie because it was never disproven and the apprentice has since taught his own pupils to believe it to. Generations had grown used to loving the fable that was made off the huge living lie and complex relationships has since been built on this old aging lie. And because someone ever gains the most in every relationship, the lie remains true to those who gain from it.
With uttermost regard for the honour and painstaking memory of their founding mentors, generations have flawlessly adhered to this lie. Decades passed and they are in too deep to ever surface again for the truth that their one ingrained belief is based on a lie. It is now a solid national structure and not a mere law to be simply abrogated or shredded confetti for the gutters’.
Nigeria exists as a national entity and it is the responsibility of all Nigerians to make the old lie an enduring truth. It is the dream of generations of the people of the larger Niger-area to actualize the ‘Will of Wishes’ their ancestors left for them to build on. Like the glorified bastards their obscure origins make them, the international identity of all Nigerians depends on it.
WILLS OF WISHES
She is an old village;
Naïve, crude, not low in age.
She understood very little,
Wasn’t sure if trust was so simple.
From the refined distance he came;
With strength he showed his shame.
With feeble resistance she succumbed
And all that’s hers he well combed.
Because she paid well he kept her
And married her from leagues afar.
She never nodded or was asked
But remained his and tasked.
They got a son after a while;
The bastard was proud in his smile.
With time he knew mother and father
And truly had cause for bother.
Claiming justice the father withdrew,
His loyal son he let rule like he knew.
The complication wasn’t at first obvious.
As time tells, it also is very envious.
The mother weeps for her dear son,
For the father has the whole person.
Their bastard is what he knows
And in this nature all does grows.
Tomorrow’s sunsets come inevitably,
Carrying vague identity’s loyalties happily.
Nursing dreams of his father’s riches;
Their bastard made wills of wishes.