By Aliyu Smith
It took me nearly a week to emotionally regain my strength to write the sordid memories of the macabre that transpired in Kano. The massacre that claimed dozens of our brothers including my five agile and youthful brothers from Bauchi, whom before they got killed, I had a feeling that their intellectual prowess would one day become a force to reckon with. I wanted to narrate the killings but the lies concocted by the police in the aftermath of the killings left me speechless to an extent that I made up my mind not to write. I wanted to write and vent my anger over the state-sanctioned persecution of our members but the horrific memories of my slain brothers laying dead alongside dozens of others had become so unbearable that upon my return to Bauchi, I had to temporarily relocate to Yankari Games Reserve to recover. The country I dearly love is sinking, the president we voted en masse has resorted to massacring his own people; the security forces who are supposed to give more priority on fighting terror, tackling the marauding Fulani herdsmen and Niger Delta militants have gone haywire, killing Shias like ants demolishing their buildings with gusto as if they are employed to do just that. I am so worried about my country that my fraying nerve seems to ponder that the people living in the country may never change: they are neglected by the politicians whom they brought to power, they are left in the lurch by the president who promised to lift out of poverty and insecurity but punished them with unprecedented hardship in return. People are in danger of starvation, everything is getting worse, but the people barely remonstrate with the government because they are busy celebrating and cheering the persecution of Shias. I sometimes feel as though to give up hope that Nigeria will change for the better because our people and leaders alike are so immutable and rudderless that they have lost the sense of their existence. I am sad.