I know many people will disagree with me, but I will say it anyway.
While thousands gathered in colourful attire, rode horses, sprayed money, danced, celebrated culture and flooded social media with beautiful pictures, some families in Oyo State and Ogbomosho were counting another day without their children.
Seventeen days.
Seventeen long days.
Some children abducted from Oyo have spent over two weeks away from their parents. Some families wake up every morning not knowing whether their sons and daughters have eaten, slept, cried themselves to sleep, or are even still alive.
Yet life goes on.
The drums continue to beat.
The cameras continue to flash.
The parties continue.
And somehow, we have convinced ourselves that this is normal.
No! Noooooo!!
This is not the kind of spirit I grew up with. They have said over and over again, Yoruba people are hospital and share pains of their friends.
I have seen my parents exhibit this over and over again. Many times they give our food to neighbours that are hungry. Many times I have seen my Dad bought clothes for neighbours who couldn’t afford one.
Anytime I ask why that are doing these, my father would say:
“This is the way of the Yoruba. We takes care of our friends. We help ourselves.”
So what happened?
You mean my parents finished the class and other parents didn’t?
I am Yoruba. And to make this so personal….
I am Ijebu. Check my surname very well. Both Ijebu Ode and Odogbolu are my ancestral homes.
And because I am Yoruba, I believe I have every right to ask difficult questions.
Can a mother truly dance with peace in her heart when another mother is crying herself to sleep because her child is missing?
Can we honestly say all is well?
The drum of War is beating so loudly in our hears and yet we have time for AFEFERITY!
Before some people deliberately misunderstand me, let me be clear.
Culture is beautiful.
Ojúdè Òba is beautiful. The best in the world.
Our heritage matters.
But culture only flourishes where there is peace.
A festival is sweeter when the people are safe.
What exactly are we celebrating when families are living in bondage and fear?
What exactly are we dancing for when children are still in captivity?
I repeat this again, we are intentionally insensitive in this country.
We still haven’t come to realization that the Yorubaland, Ijebu are the last line of existing Nigeria.
Listen, God cannot help us!!
He did not help the Isreal, they are helping themselves!
I really don’t have anything to say to the men, they only care about their balls.
But mothers!!
Gone are those days of Aba Women riot of 1923 championed by Madam Magret Ekpo, Egba women resistance and the removal of Egba king, championed by Madam Funmilayo Ransome Kuti, and the ones that happened in 80s and 90s.
Real mothers would come out in their numbers to protest against colonial governments, naked.
These woman shook the foundation of power! It was on their premise that other Nationalist patrons rode to fight for Nigeria independence.
My grandma told me they would protested with or without clothes on. So that the government will take them serious.
Even in the Premier state I am yet to see that.
Oju gbami ti fun yin.
Let’s tell ourselves the truth, Yoruba people has lost her individuality and Spirituality!
We have forgotten who we truly are!
Across Africa, women have stood up whenever society lost its conscience.
Today, it feels like many of us have become spectators.
Everything is content.
Everything is for the gram. Everything is aesthetics.
Until tragedy knocks on our own door.
That is when reality suddenly becomes real.
The painful truth is that we have become experts at looking away.
We mourn today.
We trend tomorrow.
We move on the next day.
And those left behind continue carrying the burden alone.
I keep asking myself:
If your child had been missing for seventeen days, would you have the strength to attend a celebration?
If your daughter was sleeping in a forest somewhere, would music sound the same to you?
If your grandson was among those abducted, would you be posting pictures and videos?
These are uncomfortable questions.
But uncomfortable questions are often necessary.
The greatest danger facing us is not insecurity alone.
It is becoming comfortable with insecurity.
It is normalising pain.
It is adjusting ourselves to tragedy.
That is when a society begins to lose its humanity.
People may call me emotional.
That is fine.
I know some people would call me Omo Ale (bastard) again today, who cares!
I would rather be accused of caring too much than caring too little.
Because somewhere tonight, there are mothers who would give up everything they own just to hear the voice of their children again.
I bet my life, if Prof. Dora Akunyili is alive today, her voice would have tear the wall of Aso Rock.
That woman was the last fearless Warrior King we had. The type of mothers we have now are social media celebrities without spine of Action!
Scared, manipulative, career minded, gossipers, depressed, divorcees…..
No one can lead market women to f!ght against incessant increase if foods stuff.
Well, they are all friends of Mama Olojas. They are now accomplices with the government to inflict pain on us.
Maami, you are the most vulnerable to these terrorist. You may say shebi na to just be sleeping with them…
Yes, but what they will do that to the child you suffered to give birth, you will wish to dïe but dëath will be far away.
Hate me for being vocal.
Hate me for being emotional about the children and mothers sleeping in the cold and begging the same government that sworn to protect them to come save them from the hands of their abductors.
Will your son, daughter, sister, grandson or daughter being in that situation and the next thing you are out there whining your expired waist?
I hope you know you people have all these Mallam and Abokis (Fulanis) riding bikes in your villages.
What does these bandits use as transport?
Connect the duct.
Curse me if you want to curse me. “Adabi ti ko ba kin se eje lowa Lara awon to wa ni igbekun ni epe yin ma sise laiye mi.”
Some fathers are pretending to be strong while quietly breaking apart inside.
Some families are praying prayers no parent should ever have to pray.
And that should concern all of us.
Not because they are our relatives.
Not because they are from our town.
But because they are human beings.
Because they are our people.
Culture is important.
Tradition is important.
Celebration is important.
But compassion must never become optional.
Never.
The good mothers in Ijebu should have use this avenue to protest against this emotionless government. They should have puts on black on black, placards, songs of pains, crying on the streets and many more.
As it is, no country is taking us serious because we have not yet realized the mess we are into.
Oju gbogbo wa lo ma se!
But no.. he is their son!
The same son who called the killers of his brothers prodigal son.
The son who could not visit victims in their trying moments.
He will bring rice and pepper and you all will troop out singing his praise. Some will even be going round Lagos cursing anyone that would not vote for him.
Yet, you can’t feed well or pay for the basic needs of your family.
You cannot convince a fellow woman to speak out against this government, but you can convince them to join you and collect Rice.
This is purely the beginning and the end of our dear nation. The timidity of women, are signals to the outright end of life.
My heart remains with every family waiting for their children to come home.
And until they do, I honestly do not feel like celebrating anything.
By Amusan Tolulope
