MY BLACK BRAIN BOX

I just want to pack my bag and baggage, and leave this place for good
or bad or both. I am tired of waking up every morning just to count
black faces – I am sorry, did I hurt your feelings?

It is all social media, a perfect place for you to attack every
statement and a possible way to grant me popularity; why am I in want
of fame at all cost? C’mon, I am Black – thought you shared same
vision brother.

I have no dreams, I am no clone or buddy linked to Martin Luther King
Jnr– let us celebrate the dreamer! Maybe he would wake up in years to
come. I have no dreams, just a wish to go to America. Be it by a
lorry, a cart, cargo plane, or my legs – bother-less, my skin colour
will not fade, what can a
black face possibly change to?

My Government is unrivalled when it comes to public purity, in fact we
can boast of a fight against corruption. The poor dies every second
even faster than your heart beat; but it is cool right? Persons get to
die of cholera, bullets, too much thoughts, suicide and so on that we
might live – they survived in slums and are buried there but, their
spirits did not rest. A slum is not a rosy heaven; it knows too many
gnashing and tears from the impecunious.

Corruption first and development later – a promising strategy just
that the episode is too long; with lazy hands have I rubbed my sleepy
eyes, rich drama but cannot afford cheese balls for a mouth companion.
The poor attack the poor, they get to kill each other – they want
food, shelter, and fresh air.

No rich man gets the bullets from a double barrel, the rich follow up
the death rate of poor souls in their protected homes. Soldiers
protecting them with advanced weapons? Do not mention. It is the
annual purge anarchy, a means to reducing the proles from planet
Earth; a perfect way to overcome over population.

Power corrupts? No, it does not – you only get enticed. I want to be a
president with a difference; I want to surpass their every record. So
I drop all books on black struggles, and I romance my thoughts on
wealth cuddles. I want to represent transparency, so what I do is tell
the people my evil plans of catering for my family; sending my family
to the United States for more than a vacation.

Breaking records is to build castles for my distant cousins; the
people must love me because despite my lack of care for their affairs,
I was sincere and honest enough to tell them I am ruling for my
stomach. It is impossible an aim – I wonder why you remind me to be a
no hoper, can’t I just imagine being a ruler?

Tax imposition, it is just one way the government gets revenue – I
support it. The tax burden is now intense here, many would say Christ
can’t bear this particular burden or His cross should come and take
lessons from the heavy duty gigantic tax the government demands from
the rich and the broke – cool, the government is only maintaining
equality. Is it the fat medical bills, I understand why the hospitals
charge high – the rich wants an expensive health care because the
heavier the bills, the weightier the headlines. Good job hospitals, I
think more focus should be in throwing the poor sick beings suffering
from insomnia to every street. Doing this will make them serve as
vigilante – one good way of putting them to serve their fatherland,
and one sure way of reducing crime rate. Superb muse right?

If I am satisfied with all these, why the America wish? Well I am
unsure about a three square meal. Here is hot, and amidst the
temperate, there is hunger. The fight against corruption is at the
expense of my daily bread, a good fight but a death kite – a common
law for commoners, a change mantra as perfect guise. Maybe I should
cry 40for food to the government, but then whilst serving at their tables
they choose not to order for a glass of my opinion. So give me the
world map, I will go get my black shoe ready and get it shiny with my
slimy sputum.

I choose America, I prefer the washing of dead bodies, new born
babies, or zombies in the White man’s soil. Put me in your prison
America, so long as I get three meals a day. I deserve slaps from
legends who once fought for a better Africa, but I am more concerned
in defining knowledge as saving oneself from hunger strike and loss of
life – I am no hero.

So please tell my pastors I love them, I hope they resume their
prayers for a better Nigeria as soon as they are done with the
inter-church chaos. You are probably reading this with a total grasp
but humming like you just gulped a grand malt, or you struck with
hysteria and oblivion not far from the loud laugh of an hyena. It is
cool that you have a better way I could see things, but it is normal
you are minding your business.

Hello from the other side.

OKOCHA OBED writes from Abuja.

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