Tag Archive | @Kaycee

The Cliché Collector/ Alchemist: Issue 14

My head cracked – a kernel of wonderment. Read why here. How sad and ridiculous, how wicked and pathetic that Dana Air should be striving to stop the inquest into he air accident of Sunday, June 3rd 2012. Their action should be taken for what it is: an attempt to mock the dead, to denigrate our psyche. The government’s decision to restore Dana Air’s operating license has more than empowered the company with the venom of arrogance and contempt.

We must not stand and stare; we should say no to such arrogance; we should insist on having an inquest. Not to do so would be to invite more disasters. Enough! 😦


“Until The Next Cenotaph”, a poem by Kenechi Uzochukwu (@Kaycee on naijastories.com), brilliantly captures the many faces of the tragedy. This poem was featured in the Naija Stories anthology So We Do Not Forget
:

First,

The wails were distant

A far off news echo

We didn’t feel the pain

Not as much as we should

Nor as angry as we ought

They were just names

Only names on a manifest

And a tragedy on screen

Soon we forgot

The next was closer

Still we mostly wondered

And then questioned

And looked to blame

First God

He shoulda known better

We questioned Him

But God is a silent being

He didn’t say a word

So we shifted

To the authorities

And we got answers

Of ineptitude

And corrupt speak

With only a sigh

And a head shake

We chose again to forget

For we knew not the dead

They weяε mere figures

List on a manifest

They were unfortunate

We are survivors

They are the fallen

Frontline casualties

In this war of life

In the battle Nigeria

Are our hands free

From their fall?

Just a little check

A little caution

A little truth

And they might still be standing

But we did nothing

No

We took pictures

We updated profiles

We heard speeches

We sighed and shrugged

Life has happened

We did nothing else

And the arms of tragedy

Stretched even closer

Arms we could have delayed

If we only tried,

But look here our cenotaph

For we are dead

Now we have fallen

Now others sing the songs

Take the pictures

And ‘Like’ the updates

Most are compelled

Again to God

Again silence

But in His silence they are consoled

Always in the believe

That He knew and He saw

And He purposed.

So with a sigh

And resign

They set their hearts to mend

Until the next cenotaph

***

[The lab. ALCHEMIST is pacing around].

ALCHEMIST: I remember the words my neighbour spoke the day Mbari, another neighbour, was stabbed to death: “Mbari was a handsome, generous man, but his obsession with other men’s wives was a fatal flaw that cost him his life.” [Coughs, then yawns]. A FATAL FLAW – I need not tell you that’s today’s specimen – is an ancient relic of dramatic criticism. Back in the damned old days, to explain how the hero flopped in a play, you pick one of his foibles and say that was the fatal flaw… [Stops abruptly]. Those days are gone. This relic is better left buried. The day you resurrect this relic, you die… 😦

[Walks out of lab].