After much turning, slapping, hitting, and killing, I finally open my eyes. I grab my pen; perhaps to find words to express my disposition-even though it’s still a long way to morning. Who shall save me from this enclave of mosquitoes?
I’m still shocked to know there are some people in this universe who have not had a mosquitoes bite in their entire life, when this night alone, I’ve had scores of mosquito bites. My waking up to write isn’t so much of being inspired, but the only way to make up for this mosquito-induced sleeplessness. If one is slightly under-covered, the mosquitoes are ready for a feast; on the under hand, the heat is suffocating.
Oh Nigeria! The wounded giant of Africa, I long for the day you’ll find strength enough to pull the average Nigeria above the poverty line.
Not everybody in Nigeria has this experience, but the average Nigerians. There are some who have barely crossed the poverty line, but here, the struggle continues. Our only hope is what lies ahead in the future. But as of today, there’s much suffering in present day Nigeria, of which I am a partaker.
What a good way to spend the night after Christmas, my hands dancing on this paper and occasionally, being interrupted by mosquito bites. Apparently, some bites are fiercer than others. Perhaps, it’s their Christmas present to me.
All I can say is, it’s still a Merry Christsmas.
Happy Boxing Day.
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