What about their promises? They said that they would protect us but now it seems they are just selfish.I stood there with my brother staring at the doom about to be spelt out to us.We had been wrong, they were not going to be here until it’s over, they would desert us like overgrown weeds in a dead man’s farm. They were different, they had to be, how could they just leave us prone to the evil omen which will surely befall us.We had been wrong to trust them, doomed to think that they were going to stay forever. We could have known better but we decided to be ignorant – at least till it all went away.Fear crept into our minds, all our strive washed down the drain. How do we thrive on, struggle to survive now that we had no means of meeting even our physiological needs.The women wailed aloud, throwing themselves on the sand with tears of agony, the men were filled with resentment and despair, the question on everyon

The sun woke me from my deep slumber, my eyes still hazy. I pulled myself up, took my walking stick and continued straight through the path. My father would normally say “Seeing the sunrise shows that the day will be good.” I needed help or else my fate was undetermined. I could see a distant smoke, my eyes which were socked in desolation became agile as it sought for this source of hope. I broke wild into this specific direction, the journey seemed so far. At long last, after trekking for such a long mental time, I got to my destination. My gut was right. It was a small camp, crowded with people. I glared in awe, they seemed so peaceful as they went on their daily business. The women were taking care of the children while the men were carrying hoes and machetes into the bush. A sign inscribed “Welcome to the home of refugees.” They had created clustered homes for themselves, living on the support and protection of one another. The entrance was b

All is fair in love and war, desperate times calls for desperate measures. Our survival was based on our innate ability to strive. The skies cried out at such malefaction, the heavens thundering as if it was trying to curse the oppressors. When it started, we expected it to end but it trudged on, we were violated by the aftermath as it tore through our once peaceful homes. Some of us danced to the tune, carrying guns to fight back what they called “injustice”. What about us who had fragile minds who could not stand to shed blood.We ran, being entangled between groups: one group branded us as “saboteurs” because we did not join in on the fight, they came to plunder on our survival retrospecting on the fact that weaklings and feeble minds like us had no reason to exist.The other group were solely aimed on destroying our social existence, they spat at our religion, abhorred our culture, tearing through to terminate every fragment of

A poem dedicated to “blood and water” by Osuagwu Alexander.MY SINWhat actually led me hereWhat have I doneCould I have saved himWas I scared or stupidAm writing to free my guiltBut reading this scriptLiterally pricks my conscienceAll I did was watchBut I feel my ignorance was a sinAnd it haunts me dailyI’ve always been waryBut this blame was mineIt was halp past nineOn that cold dark nightA scene pictographed in me My eyes met him afarHis heels were in motionHis eyes were redFilled with undeniable fearHe was limpingHis body filled with shiveringHe kept on strugglingBeing aware of his doomed fateBecause of his faithAn opposition of religionWhich innovated destructionAn environment where ethnicityHas disrupted ethicalityAnd im