Sons of Revolution

by Joseph Ikhenoba


This is story about the revolution of the masses from a tyrant government.

The streets of Lagos, Nigeria was flooded with mass protesters who are tired of the empty promises of a government that doesn't care about them. All they cared for is their families and friends. For years, the country couldn't govern herself. Coup d'etat upon Coup d'etat, political assassinations, corruption and nepotism had destroyed the economy and sovereignty of the masses. As one walked from streets to streets, villages to villages, states to states, the only picture one would see is the frustration of the people. For over six decades, since the country gained her Independence from the British, she couldn't make her people happily. In the early sixties, events were quite rosy and the country seemed to be heading on the right track, only for her ship to capsized owing to the bad captains called Leaders.

The masses have had enough. Terrorism, unemployment, inflation, national debt just name them stared at their faces while the so called Leaders are getting fatter like pigs. Their children attended the best schools, rode the best cars, ate the best food and live in well secured palacious mansions. Poor children roamed about the streets with big heads, shiny, swollen bellies and tiny legs. They became homeless. Their mothers and sisters were raped in Internally Displaced Camps. Yahaya, one of the protesters saw his two wives and four girls raped and guillotined at his presence when some terrorists invaded his village. He lost his right hand and the village was reduced to a desert. The memory still haunt him. He barely slept without thinking about the horrible scene. At a point, he thought of suicide.

The country was blessed with rain yet dying of thirst. The young men have resulted to human rituals and cyber crimes to survive the poverty. The girls have turned themselvves to object of prostitution. Some have committed suicide. Others have gone on escapades through the dangerous Sahara Desert route to escape to Europe. Few who travelled legally to other countries are being discriminated and subjected to modern day slavery. The first protest at Lekki toll gate led to the unjust massacre by soldiers of innocent protesters fighting for their fundamental Human Rights. Ebuka, another protester, who had just been released from Kirikiri prison, spent five years for a crime he didn't .commit. He narrated how horrible and stuffy the prison rooms are. He said an animal wouldn't even live in such Hell. Although, there are special prisons alloted to rich people. In the prison yard, money dictated. So many innocent people have been awaiting trials for years. some have died of diseases, starvation, suicide, inmates fights and execution. A boy who stole bread just to survive was jailed for ten years until a Non-Governmental Organisation bailed him. Could one call this justice when some of the government officials stole millions and billions with pens and papers, yet escaped the wrath of the law? Or, could one say the judicial system was made for the common man and not the elites and ruling classes?

Seun, a graduate of Petroleum and Gas Engineering had been unemployed for years. He was a brilliant chap and had passed all his interviews in flying colours. Why wasn't he employed? The simple answer "Nepotism." Being the first child with three younger siblings in school and ageing parents, he struggled to make ends meet. Imagine working five hard jobs just to survive and help your family. When his lover, whom he planned to marry abandoned him for a rich fellow, he got so depressed to the edge of committing suicide. All these atrocities and more had been happening in the country for years. The masses have had enough. They are fed up with frequent educational strikes, police and soldiers brutalities. They are fed up of inflated fuel prices and vehemently everything. Nothing seemed to be working.

The protesters marched peacefully with their hearts thrown out and their voices raised beyond bars unminding the military and police officers guaging their guns at them. They have had enough. It's the gong of revolution. Nothing can retract them, not even a thousand barrages. After all, it is more honourable to die in the affairs of truth than the rivers of mediocrity. It's revolution, now or never as they marched on with banners and placards.

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