The Sky is Falling

The sky is falling
But it’s upside down
And it’s raining and it’s pouring
And it’s softening the ground

So ashes can be spread
And we can bury our dead
And we can wake to sleepless nights
Cold sweats in our bed

Memories seasoned with regret
Inside already tormented heads
Heaven is below
It is where they go
And hell is in a realm
Between the ceiling and the floor

The sky is falling
And hell resides above
So the fire and the brimstone
Fall down to earth on us



The debris flutters down like snow
Making eyes water and hearts ache
Its toxic and its weightless
Yet heavy enough to make hearts break

Planes drop mindlessly out of the sky
Wasting 100s of our lives
Leaving behind orphans and widows
Death comes to part husbands and wives

Bombs detonate in churches near mosques
Making a mockery of our religions
Of our safety precautions, of us
Leaving in its wake another fresh & rotting corpse

The roads are soaked with blood
From this car crash and that fight
The streetlights don’t work
Either way, there’s no light

And distrust is so heavily woven into the tapestry
That we know things are never quite as simple as they seem
How does one even have clarity of vision when darkness sets the precedent?
For the environment, for the living conditions, even for the government

Is it the potholes?
Is it the cutting corners?
Is it corruption?
Is it lack of expertise?
Or is it just our quota for the deceased?

Whatever it is
Left behind
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe.
And even harder to sleep
The loss of the lost
Brings us all to our knees.

Father, Father, Father help us.
Turn our nation right side up,
So many things seem so senseless,
So can You please make it stop?

If the sky was the right side up
Blessings would be showering down
I cannot help but think we’ve destroyed the atmosphere
And turned things the wrong way around

When there is so much depravity, top down
How does one avoid gravity? It must come down.

The sky is falling
And it doesn’t matter if you cry
The residue from hell’s sewers
Will rise up to infect our lives

We are all sick
Inhaling these impurities
Cruelty has tipped the scales
No one has immunity

We exhale broken hopes
We breathe in dashed dreams
The future is a mirage
That is swept up in the evening breeze

The sky is falling down
It’s falling down on us
Are you willing to hold it up?
If so, at what opportunity cost?

Father, Father, Father help us.
Turn our nation right side up,
So many things seem so senseless,
So can you please make it stop?

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By Any Other Name

A recent article revealed that a Nigerian American woman is being charged with human trafficking and subjecting two young Nigerian women to modern day slavery ( Even before the link to the article appeared on my Skype chat with a friend, I knew what it was. I knew that “modern day slavery” by any other name, especially as the perpetrator was a Nigerian, was just a case of house girls transplanted to a new nation and regularly accepted practices converted into irregularities as they crossed the seas.

Housegirls and houseboys are a regular commodity in Nigeria and many other developing nations. In fact, one of the reasons why most dread going abroad is the lack of this luxury, which we consider a norm. In the States there is a general “Do It Yourself” attitude that the individualistic nation upholds. Since the end of their slavery, the rights of all individuals, rich and poor, are protected by many policies and procedures. They may not have perfected the treatment of justice and liberty for all, but they certainly make a valiant attempt. This means if you want a maid, a cook, a cleaner, etc you will have to pay an arm and a leg to engage one, pay them by the hour, and say goodbye to the notion of getting an all-in-one individual.

Therefore the lack of this support service in first world countries proves a difficult adjustment for many Nigerians who are used to it. I am not opposed to the idea of having domestic staff that help with various tasks: cooking, cleaning, child rearing, driving, etc. Where my opposition lies is when domestic staff become domestic slaves, as they so often do.


This Nigerian American woman beat her two housegirls, made them sleep on the floor/couch, bathe with a bucket (laughable, I know), did not allow them to eat what they cooked, did not pay them wages and made them dependent on her for basic necessities. There are many parallels here, many of which transplanted into the Nigerian context of housegirl-to-madam relationship would appear regular. However, this woman could be facing up to 20 years in prison, a $250,000 fine and may be stripped of her American citizenship.

This begs the question – did she mistreat these young women? Most definitely! What it comes down to is the value of the individual. Just because someone comes from a poorer background and may not have been afforded certain opportunities, they do not deserve to be treated as a lesser human being – for they are not a lesser human being. Respect for those around you – whether employed by you or “saved” by you from a worse existence – is essential. Housegirls and houseboys have rights too, or at least they should. The treatment of these two young women is the norm in some households here in Nigeria and other nations across the world, and this is both sad and wrong.

Karma has a way of creeping up on us, whether we are able to connect the dots or not, and since “whatever we do to the least of Christ’s brothers” we are doing unto him, we should be ever conscious of our interactions. A popular test used to judge character is the “waiter test.” How do individuals treat someone who is in a position of service to them, someone who they do not have to put on airs for or have any incentive to impress? This can be applied to domestic staff. How does one treat those that are clearly subordinates in an unspoken class system where ill treatment is permitted and at times promoted? This is of utmost importance.

There are many cases where housegirls and houseboys receive a better life, an education, and opportunities to advance themselves and their families – God bless those who are catalysts in this process. However, there are those cases that are similar and worse than the one orchestrated and now faced by this Nigerian American woman. It is a reminder, be mindful of your actions, be aware of your interactions, be considerate in your treatment of others.

One does not know the day or moment when you will be called to stand trial. What charges will your accusers bring against you? Will they be your opposition or will they support you during times of trial? The tables have a way of turning, and as power shifts and you are at the other end – will your ill treatment of others backfire against you or will you reap the seeds of goodwill you have previously sown? The choice is yours, and the strength of character you choose to develop will surely play a crucial role at one time or another. Beware, be careful, be who you are comfortable with and can willingly answer for.

Bombs Over Baghdad

Bombs over Baghdad
At least we know there there is war
Yet there are bombs in the market
Bombs in the store

Bombs while we argue
Bombs while we snore
Bombs while we celebrate
Explosives encore!

A knock out goes off
My heart skips a beat
For we do not know
If its a celebration or defeat

Body parts fly
And so do the flies
For there are fresh body parts
And new widows once wives

Should we waste our tears?
Should we utter our cries?
Or should we pick up our weapons
And take even more lives?

Should we too make their body parts fly?
And make fresh widows of their wives
Should we corrupt these young minds?
And age these eyes?

Should we instil that feeling?
That only the strong survive?

Yet none of us feel strong
We all feel weak
For week after week
Another shovel digs deep

We buried more today
Some made it in the ambulance
But weak they remain
And next week may be their last chance.





What claim dare lays hold on a Plateau life?

“Love thee or leave thee?
To each his own?”
These adages no longer apply
Each man won’t be left alone
Unless he is the latest resident
Under the latest tomb stone









What can we do my darling?
How can we help thee?
Is our heritage in the land?
Or is it within every me?

Down here is everybody cursed, no one blessed.
Are you really my darling the wild wild west?

Bombs while we pray,
Let the bombs rest.
Down on our knees,
Let us beg to be blessed.

Our city’s in a coma,
Her body scarred deep
Our hearts ravaged
Bombs, rocking us, to sleep.



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