Open Letter From Mother Earth

Dear Children of the Soil,

I love the Creator, He is the one who brought me into being. You though are not only children of His spirit, you are mine also. You have a Heavenly Father and a Mother Earth. Why don’t you love me too? Why do you worship concrete so much? Why are you so content to let me die? Why are you letting most of other species; plant and animals alike suffer too? That isn’t what the almighty Creator planned.

I will tell you the creation story; it is mine to tell! I know better because I was there when He formed you out of me. On the day after He made light that scattered darkness and showed the infinite space.

I was next in line – he made me and wore a vast blue glorious veil over me. I am the base of all things that was made. He separated my body into parts; water and land. I became the home for all that was made. I am the keeper! You are killing me slowly, you pollute me in every way you can – by ocean, sky and land. You chase around after a wealth neither of us gave you.

Gold is only a shiny yellow metal and money – I don’t understand at all. What is it? Is it worth killing me, your mother planet, over? Where will you go children? Where will you go, heaven? Not until you return to me.

Do you plan on eking out life on some barren rock with lakes of poison surrounded by technology? No species can ever recover after killing its home world, its mother. To do so is spiritual suicide; you love me, as I love you.

Abuse isn’t love though and you abuse me with your lust for material wealth you do not need. You live in fear on a planet so achingly beautiful that there is no other like me. I am the best He ever made, you are supposed to be the finest species but you have a cultural insanity that we all don’t understand. You were meant to care for us like in those Eden days. Are those days gone? Children of the soil you need clean water, healthy soils and diverse crops. Your fellow species whom you now call lower are also my children, they need habitats too. You kill and eat the last of them. They need to reproduce not become you artifact and pleasurable trophies from a good hunt. You were never supposed to be greedy like this; you were supposed to respect the spirits of all. He gave you His spirit because He believes you have the ability to preserve. Use it now! Save me now! It’s a mother’s call! Life is sacred, you are sacred. We all are! The circle of life must thrive

Saturday @ My Local Market

The streets roared with rage for it now was awake from its peaceful slumber. Stalls were stuffed and shopkeepers screamed out offers on the top of their voices to attract customers and buyers desperately tried to bargain for the best possible prices. This is my local market, a place which is always drowning in the sea of people. Not a single empty place could be spotted between the stalls. Street hawking made the street extremely narrow forci…ng people to walk in a straight file like soldiers going to battle.

The sun mercilessly shone down upon the market. It warmed up the stuffy, stinking air which smelled of sweat and rotting garbage. No air freshener could have defeated this sour, rancid stink which ruled over the cramped air there. Beads of sweat glistened on everyone’s forehead and many faces turned red due to the sweltering heat. The meat stalls packed with shopping wives sampling various pound of meaty flesh. The sellers used their dirty hands to wade off flies pointlessly dancing around the fresh fish and smoked fish alike. A helpless woman fumbled through the scores of bags she carried and tried to tick on a list with a pen clenched between her teeth.
Sweaty buyers skilfully wove their way by locating minute gaps between people and squeezing through. Pickpockets felt like sewage rats in a feeding frenzy and munched purses out of many pockets of innocent buyers too busy bargaining. Experienced visitors like mama Bolu wore tight pants for the same reason.

The afternoon flamed the market exhaustion and breathlessness silently approached the first time visitors, but the everyday buyers proudly held on against the torture of the market and kept shopping. The deafening chaos in the market made ears split as if you were standing under a giant speaker.

On My Street, In My Hood.

Enviromental pollution

The pollution wraps itself around my body like the neither second skin I neither want nor need. The particles invade my lungs and sting my eyes even if I squint into the Lagos city streets. They called it “smog,” weeks ago, now propane or butane but truly it is a chemical soup that can only shorten our lives and exacerbate health issues. Some walk in cloth- like face masks, others hide in homes with air filtration, but most of us can afford neither. …We take food where we can get it and sleep fitfully amidst our own coughing. The old tell of a time when the air was so clean that trees and blossoms had a fragrance and the sky was blue like it is in the movies and adverts from all the electronic billboards. That’s what happened I guess, the real world got worse every day until our wicked government made themselves alternative realities instead of cleaning up the city air.