𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐 𝒀𝑯𝑾𝑯

𝑽𝑰𝑰𝑰

Everyone has a different outlook and definition of life. For some it's a treasure that's been granted, something so precious that they hold and adore it to its fullest knowing fully well that this special treasure could be snatched any moment. It is these kinds of people who see life with a distinct purpose, like something at their center that guides them through it. Whatever it is differs but it makes them believe that life is precious and won't be fulfilled until they have done all that is required of it.

There are others for whom life is like a journey on a train, a very boring one that's bleak and has little stops. The train moves until it reaches its last station, what you do during this journey determines nothing. It is that you've had a good journey which matters, such that when you reach your final destination you are content and have good things to say about it.

While for others life is an unwanted present, like when the rain falls on a bright sunny day where you just wish for it to go away so you can play. It's a burden that's been bestowed upon one making it difficult to even appreciate it. Life is full of challenges, ups and downs-the bad moments oftentimes outweighing the good ones. It's a struggle and they sigh when the new sun rises because this gift is still unwanted.

What is life when it stops?

"Twenty one worshippers were killed, including some children, in Southwest Nigeria after a group of gunmen attacked a Catholic church on Sunday with explosives," The news reporter, Hauwa Safiyanu, said on the NTA news channel. "The violence in the silent town of Owo prompted international condemnation after a rare attack in Nigeria's usually safer southwestern region. Richard Olatunde, spokesman for the Ondo State governor's office, told AFP that dynamite exploded inside the church before gunmen opened fire..."

Nerves ran up my spine at the words she was saying. Gunmen. Explosives. Death. It ran chills through my bones just thinking of the people that were present, did they know that they would lose their lives that morning? I imagine the horror and screams as they struggle to run and find a place to hide, terrified for their lives. And the little children who had so much more to live for.

Is Nigeria no longer a country? Is it now a place where no matter where you are you can never feel completely safe?

My mother reduces the volume as she shakes her head but doesn't look affected. Maybe after all the tragic events that have occurred in this country she is no longer shocked by anything. And that's the worst part, that the lives lost will just be another tragic incident in which Nigerians would fold their arms, shake their heads and say "Nawa o".

It only seems to be getting worse everyday.

The soft feeling of waking up on a bright Saturday morning quickly disappears upon listening to the news my mother insists on watching. We're seated, my sister and I, by the dining table sipping on lipton and munching on toasted bread with butter spread and a little bit of beans in mine. The combination makes it taste like freshly baked meat pie in my mouth, although my little sister can't share in my sentiments as she throws disgusted looks my way.