On this very sad Father`s day in my home city of Kaduna Nigeria, where three seperate bomb blasts had killed a number of innocent worshippers inside their respective churches during morning service, starting off a spade of angry vengeful violence, I suddenly recall an old conversation I had with my late father about two decades ago.
He had wanted to know what I thought our country would be like in a decade. That was in 1993 and I thought I was being clever when I said; Our country will be a land our founding fathers would be very proud of in ten years time.
I was so wrong and in a strange sort of way, I am so glad my father did not live long enough to see how wrong I was. It would have killed yet again to see the mess Nigeria has become. This land he had taught me to love and cherish like he did, is today the very opposite of what our founding fathers wanted it to be.
Baba, mutuwa na da wuya?
Mun amince duniyar ka da wuya.
Father, is it hard to die?
We acknowledge the hassles of your world.
With life’s wards always roams a lie;
We all are reproductions of its mould.
Choking in the presence of its grip,
The inscrutable crux not familiarized.
Do we sit out the stages of its trip,
Like your peaceful love that wasn’t recognized?
From the weep the baby wails
To the whip’s lashes life hails,
These tastes we own and inherit.
Say oh father, is there better to merit?