Hello my lovely readers, you, yes you… Ok am sorry I haven’t posted in some days, I really have no excuse to tender. In the last few days I have been on a discovery journey, reading some new books. “There was a country” – Chinua Achebe and “What is wrong with being black”- Matthew Ashimolowo I found the books interesting as they seemed to point out some things which seem to be out of the light to me. It involved my history as a black man and as a Nigerian, so far a lot of the questions are being answered but as King Solomon once said in ecclesiastes 1:18 -“For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow”. Truely more knowledge on the issue has come to me but I need to know more, to heard from both sides, to make the decision to not be bias in my thoughts. More grief has come as I lack the knowledge on what to do with my new found knowledge. Pregnant with emotions and feelings I was moved to write how I felt :
Our beautiful house
Our beautiful house that we have.
Our house had a lot of memories,
Many secrets and sweet stories.
These walls tell the tales of our struggle.
Our house our baby,
The early days saw a lot of greatness.
These walls were our pride and joy,
We were filled with sweetness.
These walls held us together,
The children our house produced were our pride.
Now the mould of nepotism, the grim of corruption has taken over our walls.
Our grown children shake their head at the state of our house,
Our little children don’t even care,
Shall we stand and just stare?
We seem to have forgotten the house we built.
Like a ship sinking everyone is leaving our house.
Everyday I cry for the house we built,
Wondering and thinking, where did we go wrong
Was it our foundation?
Did we build on the wrong type of ground?
Was it our building materials?
Or is it the children we left in charge
What is the way forward?
Our Olympus is falling before our eyes,
And sadly no one notices or even cares.
Thank you for reading.