Opinion: WHEN THE RAIN COMES FROM
When help knocks at the gate, some run to open it,
others hide the key inside their stomachs and shout,
"Thief! Thief! The visitor is a thief!"
He is coming to steal our oil.
Yet the true thief lives in our kitchen,
eating the family’s soup before it is cooked.
They point at America as the fox at the door,
while they sit at the table with wolves , with the bandits,
who have been chewing our bones for years.
Which oil do they speak of?
Is it the oil that flows like golden rivers into the pockets of leaders,
whose appetite is larger than the sky?
The oil we have never tasted except in the smoke from a gun?
The oil that makes leaders taller than towers
and the followers smaller than shadows?
They act as if they are guarding our treasure,
yet the treasure is buried under their corrupt beds.
If the visitor comes and turns our roads from crocodile pits
to smooth dancing floors for cars;
if the night becomes so quiet our people
can sleep without listening for the cough of guns;
If we have electricity 24 / 7,
if the road from Warri to Asaba
becomes a straight ribbon we can walk with closed eyes,
then why fear the guest?
A guest who brings bread is better
than a brother who serves stones and scorpions.
Some say the guest will never leave if allowed to come.
But look — your own brothers have stayed in power forever.
They have tied themselves to the State treasury
with ropes made from our suffering for decades.
They plant trouble in the morning
and harvest gold in the night.
If disorder had a father,
it would be wearing agbada in Abuja.
Maybe -- just maybe
God is sending a broom from across the ocean
to sweep the snake’s skin out of our yard.
Here, in Nigeria,
the political class cooks hunger in large pots
and serves it steaming to every home.
The land is not green anymore
it is now red.
White, the colour of peace has been poured over
with the blood of the innocent.
People now leave the country like ants fleeing boiling water.
Our security budget swells like a greedy belly,
yet insecurity grows taller than mountains.
Two governments rule here:
one is in the State House,
the other in the forest,
taxing farmers for the right to breathe
and appointing their own Commander-in-Chief that has a standing army.
There is no sovereignty in Nigeria anymore.
So if a guest comes carrying peace in his hands,
do not push him away because of pride.
Pride does not mend broken roads,
and it does not chase fear away from our nights.
Right now, Nigeria needs help,
Nigeria needs the quiet sound of peace
flowing like a calm river through our streets.
Nigeria, when help comes as a guest,
do not shut your door and pretend you are not at home.
Open the door wide,
dust the chairs,
make a room soft enough for it to rest.
Help is a rare traveller,
when it comes, host it.
My people,
stop crying that America will come to drink our oil.
America’s cups are already full,
their wells are deep with their own riches.
The mouths that shout loudest saying "don't come"
are the same corrupt mouths that have been dipping
into our pot of wealth for decades.
They are the ones we raised up as protectors,
but behind our backs
they feed the very criminals that kill us.
Our political leaders have turned into the wolves.
The night’s watchmen now hide thieves in their pockets.
And to you, ordinary Nigerian,
who says the guest should not come
because you enjoy the small crumbs
falling from the thieves' table ...
I have pity for you.
You walk with chains round your neck,
chains that will not break even with a lifetime of days.
Nigeria's wound is so open
that even a school child can see its bleeding.
Yet you, grown and wise,
still wave the helper away,
as if you have been charmed
by the sweet tongue of our political leaders.
The truth is simple:
Nigeria is on fire.
The flames eat the ground,
smoke climbs into the clouds.
If rain falls from across the sea
to cool our burning land,
let the innocent be silent and welcome it,
and let the guilty keep showing their teeth,
shouting into the wind,
“We don’t want America!”
EBIKABOWEI KEDIKUMO - writes from Ayakoromo
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