Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Africa, what is your worth?



Africa, what is your worth?  

I live in a world where countries boast of what they have in population, landmass, weapons, wealth, natural resources, standard of living condition, all in a bit to stay distinct in a competitive world.
I hail from a continent where not so much matters but selfishness, a people so fine but ugly in the face of poverty when that is all they see, a land my father says flows with milk and honey only that we never get a taste of it. A continent endowed with the richest resources but the same reason our untimely death.
I hail from Africa!
My Africa is a place where children are born into poverty, live life on poor diet and die poor in the same land where some others eat and waste good food.
My Africa is where those who want to attend schools are deprived of good schools where other children are flown abroad to the best and most expensive schools.
My Africa is the land where our voted representatives become the same enemies we voted them against. Our backs are at the mercy of their horsewhips placed in the hands of our brothers to get us off the road, so they could thread on it. Then they make our source of wealth their personal incomes, squander our funds and lay crumbs on the ground for us to fight till death.
Africa has lost more lives than all other continents, yet these unreasonable few claim they lead a people; the same people whose blood flow on the streets, the same children who die of starvation, the same people with no Medicare, the same people who are 100 years behind civilization.
Africa, I have found your worth lies in diamond, silver, oil, gold, and everything worth money. It has never been human lives; it has never been an assured future.
The next time you’re asked if you once led the African community, you need be ashamed of yourselves considering the blood you have spilled and allowed spilled when all you cared about was money. 

- Adebanji Koiki

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Men with no vision

Africa, my Africa! So we read in school but now Africans seem to be saying, Africa, their Africa.
No one wants to lay claim to Africa anymore. No one wants to be associated with poverty,corruption,avarice,war,abduction, and everything bad.
Africa is gradually losing her potentials, human and capital, to the world beyond and we pretend as if all is well. My African brothers have taken to work menial jobs in the western world even when they have all it takes to effect great change in the business,legal,medical and technology world.They now think themselves inferior to their counterparts while they embark on a life of slavery.
Our so-called leaders have taken to broad-day-robbery and we are made to hail them as we suffer in silence. We watch as they squander our wealth and save up treasures in the western world aiding their development while African children die of malnutrition and others kill one another over the remnant left.
Someone once told me our problems could be our 'black skin'. I almost picked a fight, but analyses of African countries that have never known peace since I was born left me defenseless. Could our problem then be our 'black skin'?
NO! Our problem is the few black skinned that govern Africa. The few with myopic vision, the few who got power through military coup d'etat, the few who rigged election, the brainless few.
Africa, you are my Africa but I am getting weary of defending you everywhere.
I weep everyday for you when I see lives been wasted, children dying, men and women hungry. This is not the Africa my fathers left for us.
I will pray again tonight for you and may God send your rightful leader.  

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Happy Hour by Adebanji Koiki

She leaned on him as he staggered
Bare footed she trod the neatly tarred road while her hands wore the shoe
With tie lying loosely on his neck he held his jacket with one hand
The other, her waist and then they fell, yet up again.

As they walked, they smiled and occasionally laughed
Defying death they took to the middle of a four road high way
Motorists considered them crazy
They saw themselves immortal and invisible

She looked at him the umpteenth time with so much passion
And in the heat of it their lips joined
‘Look, there is a hotel!' She screamed.
It was not unusual, it was downtown

Both, the cynosure of eyes in the city
Ten hours ago he was in the Supreme Court arguing the biggest suit in the country
Six hours ago, she audited the federal government account
But at this moment, ethics has no meaning

His credit card and the receptionist voice sealed the deal
‘Room 454 it is. Do have a nice night sir/ma'
The result of their meeting at the bar two hours earlier
Alas, their clothes fell off

Sobriety would arrive in the morning
At dawn, they would realize they had slept in a hotel
And make acquaintances of each other.
Then also would the bar refill its barrels for launch next Friday

The reason it is called happy hour.

Word by Adebanji Koiki

It feels good when I use my hands
I marvel at my own deed
How I caress it to create wonders
And the pleasure my soul derives, immeasurable.

But when I thought best of my hands, I found my lips
It grabs and shapes it in the simplest and sweetest way.
With it I have no bound
‘Cause for this purpose it was fashioned to fit.

Though I use you
I have in the most respected and reasonable way
Elude me not when I need you
For this reason I am a writer.

This is who I am.