"Nigeria Will Not End Me"- Oke's Words Reimagined. by -Bofamene Joseph

Ka anyị bido in dreary darkness ebe all beautiful things na-ebido; nwa nọ na akpanwa, mornings after twilight, Nigeria tupu religion na capitalism. Mana, ọbụrụ na uche gị dị na ihe ndị ọzọ, things examined in utter darkness, dịka obi onye SARS when he sees a young, successful Nigerian, ma ọ bụ houses in rural Eko, or ndụ ndị Nigeria na e mechaa general elections, then inwe ike ị bido at the end. 

Anyị ga akọnwụ this story backwards and it would not immediately matter maka many beautiful things begin and end in the same place. Anyị kọọ ya backwards, we see a young man buru amụma as fluently as he dreams. We take his words as literally as they are uttered, void of any biblical implications and undertones, because kee etu ọzọ mmadụ ga esi kwuo Nigerian will not end me? Kee meaning aga afụnwu na those simple words? We could say them in 53 languages and they would sound just as literal as the first.

"Nigeria No Go End Me," abụrọ ekpere. Ọ bụrọ sherimamama. It is not Klingon. Not really.

See, when a Nigerian entrepreneur begins to make coconut oil na her living room for three years post-NYSC, but suddenly feels compelled to get a NAFDAC number so that na ọ ga e inherit a sense of legitimacy, and she gets burned by the demands her government makes on her oil, she may hesitate, mana eventually, mgbe the timing dị just right, ọ ga agwa her friends- Nigeria will not end me!

In Corporate Nigeria, when a woman makes twice the sacrifice her male counterparts would even attempt, when she sends a million apologies na every work email, and delivers results na-enwerọ atụ but does not get promoted without the unnecessary standards that are erected for just women, one day when her boss dismisses her work in his usual manner, she would sit in that ergonomic chair, noo her anger ka nni ji and say- Nigeria will not end me!

Five years before ọ banye the workforce, mgbe her heart leapuru at the sound of lecturers singing "solidarity forever," just before they embarked on another pregnancy-long strike, she had mined those words and forced herself to eat them.

When 2500 Nigerian doctors salary ha may either be delayed or not be paid, begin to actively seek better working conditions na obodo oyibo, and one of them gets to the immigration office and he begins to piece facts together like human flesh after surgery and reckons that ihe a abụrọ the year ọ ga e make ya to Canada, his resolve does not flinch one bit when he says- obodo a ama 'm gbum!

When our doctors, ha ncha, all but leave us, and we witness a rise na the records of the thousands of women na-anwụ from complications afọ ime, and we go back to a decade earlier when Nigeria, the Giant of Africa, fought for her spot as the country ụmụ nwaanyị di ime ka cha anwụ in the world, we can maybe accept that the woman who said- Nigeria will not end me, but died with her infant in hand, nọ na-ekpe ekpere.

Amen?

Anyị kwesịrị ịkọ akụkọ a from mbido because telling it backwards ka ọnya mgbọ egbe ụfụ. Ọsọ godi ya bụrụ na the mgbọ tọrọ gị na ikpere because a member of your country's military sprayed live ammunition on you as you gave a high-pitched rendition of your country's anthem and waved her flags as high as the uncompleted rail pillars dị na Port Harcourt.

Kedụ ka a bullet wound fụọ gị odiri ụfụ a when the Folarics And Sons Hospital Lens Association presented evidence on national television and made it clear that na agbaghi gị egbe? Onye asị! The only place you could have been shot bụ na CAMERA!

Anyị ma your story, anyị nụrụ ya na CNN, zukwanụ ike!

Maybe na ụfụ gị nine a bụ because you've been stabbed in the back by the young men you elected into office. Young and vibrant men who have become complacent like CHILDREN

begging for candy. A dishonourable act by ndị ṅụrụ iyi to be and be held to such HONORABLE standards. Amakwanum? You could be hurting from all that laughter. Ana nna gị bụ ihe ọchị, it must be hard not to laugh.

Be that as it may, anyị ga-akọ this story from the beginning and nowhere else.

Anyị ga-ebido n'ụlọ because kwesịrị ị feel like home. Home is where we meet Oke. Home,

not on the streets of Yaba ebe illiterate policemen blocked ụzọ gbaa citizens egbe. Anyi ga-ebi ya ọma one last time and slap him playfully on the shoulder just before we sit.

Ọ dịrọ ị that hard i visit a friend at home na this country, not anymore. Back in the day, our

mothers wondered why our "friend cannot also visit us", but nowadays, it is easy to shrug off the question and dispel her doubts. Her fears adirọ irrational, we just didn't share them, but as Oke's life draws us in, we see why a son would die protecting his mother, n'ụnọ ha, na-eku ume ikpeazụ, na-afụ that it was not a gun that had drawn the blood from his veins, it was a dagger a manyere ya n'onu.

Sigh.

We begin at home because love feels like home. Ifunanya Oke nwere Derin. Ifunanya Derin nwere Oke.

Ifunanya ha nwe for the things that kept them sane in a country like our own. Love is a great place to begin when life is sucked out of you by a country that tryri igbu gi when they refused to equip hospitals and you realise that as quick as you are, you could have died at birth. This country biara for your neck mgbe o destroyiri the tiny bit of education ikpokọnata for yourself, dragged your dreams relentlessly by inyado n'aka ụmụ nwoke di unfit ịbụ part of the society, a country na-emechi ntị ya to every word i kwuru, so much so that when you feel like your soul would break, ị tụtụrụ your phone and roar one last time- Nigeria will not end me!

And you were right, Oke Obi-Enadhuze. Ndụ gị enweghị njedebe. There will never be.

Ka anyị bido here.

INTERLUDE.

For Oke Obi-Enadhuze,

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As Respectfully Inscribed By The Author.

Translated by Nweke Ernest