Creator, we have come forth, when heaven lies at the tick of a bomb, when hell blazes in the spoken word. We come for hope and truth’s pure ray. We come to wish our strife away. Life was not what we prayed for under Goodluck Ebele Jonathan – it got worse every hour. It is still not we prayed for under Muhammadu Buhari, every second, it gets harder.
Jonathan, the boy who had no shoes managed to snatch our dog-eared shoes from our feet. That self-confessed son of a poor fisherman came to snatch the few fingerlings we had in our nets. When we protested, he dished us tadpoles to eat and called it the rarest kind of nutritious fish. The one we hoped would accord us a breath of fresh air emerged to blow as another clean breath of fresh stench.