Yesterday, I put up a tweet on my media handle, asking for guidance navigating through the many emotions that plague us as content creators, which may affect our flow of words. And someone suggested writing through the feelings no matter how difficult it may be.
I guess this diary session is a short glimpse into my coffee-induced thought processes and frustrated ramblings.
It would be a bit of an understatement to say that a lot has taken place this past month in Nigeria, which has questioned the core principles humanity stands on. I have watched videos and read stories that made me scream with tears while burying my head in my pillow.
I have felt strong bursts of blind anger at the craziness that our reality has morphed into, and I have felt the numbness of disbelief. I have also experienced the blank stare of helplessness and the cold hug of defeat.
Sometimes, this Nigeria feels like a jungle with forgotten trees, hopeless branches, and decayed roots; beautiful from afar but dead on the inside. It feels like we are all stuck in a maze with no idea of the end or starting point. And it is scary because in this maze is a ticking time bomb, but there is no clear route of escape.
Yesterday, I woke up to the news of yet another young life snuffed out by Nigeria. Another hopeless day passes by with the meaningless death of someone with great potentials to create a difference in the world. I wonder why good people die young while evil people roam free. Sadly, I may never have the answer to this.
Daily, there are amplified efforts by those at the helm of affairs to shut the voices of those fighting against Nigerian injustice and police brutality. I scroll through my timeline and read about their targeted harassment at some persons who have dared to question the status quo that has held us bound for so long, who have stood up to make their defiance seen, and felt.
The consistent attempt of our leaders to discredit valid information is glaring, albeit not shocking to see. What else can you expect from those whose consciences have been laid to rest at the altar of power and greed?
I feel emotionally drained in the face of the onslaught of all these negative emotions borne out of pain and frustration over the state we are in. It can be challenging to find the light at the end of the tunnel when bombarded with this sad news daily. And wonder if there is even a light to be found in the first place.
However, the understanding that there are fallen heroes depending on us still here to continue their fight strengthens me. I have realized that sometimes we need to fall apart to get the strength to get back up again.
At the end of the day, I choose to be a believer. To believe that things will indeed get better for us and the generations to come. To do otherwise is not an option because that would mean accepting a vacuum of hope.
The beauty of life will cease to exist without the added flavour of hope. In the silence of the night, I know that better days will still come. And I pray it comes soon enough to justify the hope that things do turn around for the better.
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Love,
Diane.
