our city
2 Minutes Read Time
Over 380 persons
were kidnapped between
December 1, 2023, and January 3, 2024,
across Nigeria.
—International Centre for Investigative Reporting
on the basis of trust, I receive the eyes of a visitor
to a saucepan, redress my throat with eggshells, spread
caution like a balm to my knees, with moist fretted
by the gnawing of the news at arm’s length. just
another day to palpitate at the incandescence tearing
down the roofs of the city. yesterday, some local boys
had roused a party down the road in a way that had
everyone preemptive. most of the items stolen from
the party were children. in my bed, i imagine one of
the children playing outside, walking into a speeding
car and hitting their head to a rock. this, I believe, is
a better grief than waiting for a child, whose absence
is aggrieved by the lack of a body to wash by a river, to
wrap by a sequin, because omo eni ku, o san ju omo e ni
san nu lo. on the road, in a strange city, in my country,
i cannot ask for water. i cannot call a child, if memory
fails me. i cannot play alone in the field. i cannot sneak
a look at my mistress. i cannot sleep in my home with
the doors tightly bolted. i can only trust my bones, and
the voices of fear in the city. everywhere in this place,
trust is filthy, biases are buoyant, hurt reverses as hunt
Read more from Issue 22.1.
