The playground

The playground

I have come to the playground,

yet I look around,

and see no friend around.

My joy is tempered,

so I cried out loud:


“Aisha! Ifuyaya! Chichima!” My voice echoed

and journeyed even beyond

the bounds of the playground.

Yet, I look around, and see no friend around;

so my sorrow is triggered, then I cried out loud:


One, two, three times, yet no one responded.

Suddenly, the sun changed over me, and

gloom quickly took over me, and

my eyes so blind to see, and my feet so weak to stand,

I fell boom to the ground.


At once, like a dream, Aisha, Ifuyaya and

Chichima stood in the midst of a crowd –

All girls – Noose adorning necks, hands and legs and

like sardines, so they are packed. Half naked,

heads down, as tears flowed freely down many cheeks, and

 dripped on the ground.


Awe gripped me, and

my heart missed

a beat, at once; but it beats my mind:

When? How? Why? Boko raided our village, rid

and rip-off young girls of Chibok. I wailed and wailed


Boko! Bring back our girls kidnapped!

Boko! Bring back our girls kidnapped!

For how can Chibok be freed?

 When her future is captured and tortured

daily, by men so fierce and resolved

to see their end.


I pray, Baba God!

If you dey, may the girls be freed.

May Chibok be freed, Baba God!

Then my friends can come around,

so we can play our play on the playground.


The playground

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