In an ambitious bid to reflect a time that has continuously eluded Nigerians and Africans at large. A time we stand firm and speak, A time to discard fear and leap. The writer recreates a society, where they have grasped unto the charge of a revolution and lead the lines of the battle of the future.
The florescent bulbs of the saloon were sufficient to illuminate the barber’s sight, as he trimmed the edges of my hair. The buzzing of the clippers gently resonating against my skull as he etched a linear strip above my forehead, with care and concentration; the nagging tread of faltering, misplaced by his firm grip and assuring eyes with which he used to inspect his work. A smile beamed across his face, the joy of fulfillment.
“How you see am?” he asked as he switches off the clipper and places it in the stand that hung on the wall right below a large mirror.
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I inspected the haircut on the mirror looking, for a window of opportunity so I could nag, but he had shut all. He executed the fade perfectly and the carving brought my hairline closer to my eyes.
“You try o, make i nor lie” I responded with a smile. I sorted through my wallet for money to pay my bill, I took out a thousand naira note and handed it over to him.
“Correct guy” he praised.
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I gave him a thumbs up and took my seat in the barbing salon as I checked my phone, that I had left to charge earlier.
“1:30pm”
“Would it still hold?”
“Would ACOC stand to their words and strip him of power?”
These questions plundered my thoughts.
The past months had been rigged with a flurry of deaths, threats that has ultimately to an uprising. The State Premier had become a tyrant, ordering the deaths of obstinate surbodinates, gifting tragedy to innocent citizens and cementing his demi-god status in our fretting hearts. The decentralization of power had turned governors into Presidents of their states, our situation was not a stand-alone. They had all become Power drunk, the feeling of absolute control over the economic and prosaic structure of the state had overwhelmed their sense of duty. For a while we complained in hushed tunes, regretting our choices of being born here.
“Why them nor just born me for America?”
A stout man commented dousing his senses with more beer.
His words were met with a resounding laughter and a mock
“maybe by now, you for be will smith”
They all laughed again.
The memory was now hidden in the midst of irreplaceable losses.
The Premier shut down everyone who tried to question his authority, imprisoned journalists and killed any form of opposition. He imbibed fear in our ways and shackled us in helplessness. We trembled in our homes and offices, his shadow omnipresent in our lives.
But then we broke, we had to; he pulled the straw the broke the camel’s back.Three months ago, a group of students organized a conference to speak about his misgovernance. At the middle of it, a group of armed men pulled in and shot them point blank. The news rocked the city, shook our hearts until fear could no longer stay. An uprising begun in the form of ACOC, we took to the streets and protested against his tynarry, he replied with brutality and maimed many. Two days ago the leaders of the uprising spoke fearlessly about taking power from him.
“Strip him of his borrowed robes”.
I could not decide if I would join or even if his claims were authentic. As I sat in the saloon contemplating, if fear had crept into our hearts again. The barber took off his shirt and put on a black polo with ACOC boldly inscribed on it.
“Bros you dey join” I asked.
“Yes o, time don reach we dey go collect the power wey we give am” he responded with contagious feiry.
“but you sure people go come out?”
I asked skeptical.
“Even if nobody come out, I go go alone. Na man he be, na man I be. If I die, I die. Something must kill person”
I look at him with admiration, shaming the doubts that hid in my eyes.
“I dey with you”
I pulled off my t-shirt to reveal a polo similar to his.
We locked our elbows and stepped out and gently advanced chanting songs of liberation, eyes peered from stores staring at us, ‘such an oddity’ would what would be on their mind. But as we walked, I felt a mild tremble and I turned back to see thousands marching our direction, all in black polos with ACOC inscribed on top.
“I know say we nor go fail” he said with a grin on his face as he pulled off to go join the larger crowd.
their songs rose high, eyes bloodshot and boys striking against the earth. Each mind in peace with the realization that today might be its last.
I gazed up the clouds, the sun was red. ‘I might die too’. I thought.
The sirens of the armed forces that have been deployed to stop us pulling closer.
My mind wandered until it found solace in an unrealized truth; We failed Fela; he had sang melodious against percussion laced beats.
“my people fear to fight for freedom, they fear to fight for liberty, they nor one die”
But today we proved him wrong.
“We shall stand together, we will fight, die and conquer”.
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