March 1, 2023 – What The Heck Man

Sanmi in Mexico, Circa 2014. Freshly heartbroken, teaching English to a local school.
Lost from God, considered ending it all 3times. On this day, I was making my way home from teaching and listening to gospel music – I felt moved to tears and simply gripped in my soul. I tried to record what I was feeling and broke down in tears.
This is a screenshot from that video. This is how I feel as I write this.

Mixed emotions
Tension
A collective inhale
Restricted flow
Information loss
We knew it was coming
But like hot eba with no stew
No hope
It’s lodged firmly
In our throats
In our hearts
This sucks
This is Nigeria
Not my home

It’s Monday and many of you are probably reading this on Wednesday or later – at the time of writing this, I’ve called on God, many times.
Stranded, hopeless and holding my breath – I am not entirely sure what I am hoping for.
A miracle that shines light on a 100million homes in poverty or the painful reality that our adopted jollof will now come second to indigestible agbado (corn).
I want more.
I want more than hopelessness.
I used to love the sight of main gate after school at Mayflower Ikenne because it meant a reunion with the delicious buns and egg roll lady.
Picking them up with a fork, she would lift your portions out of a plastic or glass container and place them on a piece of paper.
Who would have thought that 20years later – I am haunted by that image. Paper and plastic.

Watching INEC hold a sham of an election with citizens of the world’s most populated Black Country voting into plastic bins that you can snag at your local dollar tree. The “organization” blatantly ignoring the rule of law and manipulating papers that we clearly saw just the day before.
Is this who we have become?
It’s naivety that makes you think we have just become “we have always been”.
Think back to the numerous coups, the tribal wars, the blatant disregard for life.
Lekki.
It has taken it’s toll.
Nigerians said enough and blocked the gate.
But they somehow have driven their bullion van of lies and deceit through our bloodied hearts.
Why?

———
Wednesday.

It’s 7:15am and I am finally mixing my preworkout drink.
This is the latest I have headed to the gym in the last month. I woke up 4-5 times over the course of the night.
My gym opens at 5am and I would typically will myself up early but I simply could not convince myself to Arise today.
There are so many ways to Channel(s) your energy into willing yourself up.
Simply put, this sucks.
They say it’s the hope that kills you but it’s the hope that gives you life and makes you reach for more.
The hope forces you to not give up on yourself.
I wonder where we would be as a people if we didn’t hope.

I am sad and proud to be a Nigerian today.
For a long time, there was a general belief that young people in Nigeria simply didn’t care enough.
And maybe this is the start of the change that we want or start of something new but people came out.
It was clear that at the very least “some” Nigerians want something different for themselves.
Their force was felt.
As a people, we elected the man we believe to be a first key step in recovery as a country and people.
Peter Obi.
Unfortunately in broad daylight or at 4am in the dark of the night, they stole our future from us.
It feels like a lost cause because we are currently unsure how compromised the justice system is.
I am angry.
I am sad.
Frustrated.
Mad.
This election was rigged and stolen.

This election reminded me of something – we can all be in different parts of the world and feel things as one.
Collectively, today I felt the pain and sadnesss in the hearts of Nigerian’s world wide.
We are more united than we can see.

I don’t feel comfortable saying “God save Nigeria”.
Feels like he forgot us.
There is no reason why a country filled with so many talented and ambitious black people should “elect” a President and collectively feel dread, fear, sadness all over the world as one.
Nigerians are terrified but as always, we will thrive.
Hopefully before the BAT and terrorist king become unalive.

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