Tale of a Nigerian Student

I am schooled
Not because I am in this building
Called school
But because school
Keeps showing me
It’s cool and look before you leap side.

It was from distance
I first heard about
“For learning and culture.”
My fish left its shoal
And headed to a home
Of selected chaos;
I have learnt in a few months,
The total way of life of people.

Light illuminates the night
But in this area of land,
We buy light
Because neither our right
Nor might
Can give us the voice
To demand for this made costly commodity.

Mama tells me,
“Read for you to lead.”
But reading in this place
Doesn’t equal leading.
You read and become a reed
But when marks on white sheet are pasted on walls,
It wrecks of shit and torture
By hands that have gotten rid of hearts that nurture.

Life isn’t a bed of roses
But in this place,
I have encountered life as
A bed of roses—
I relaxed and heaved a sigh of relief.
Alas! Roses have thorns;
I was poked.

Ask me why elders’ eyes
Are sunken,
I will tell you—
They were once the Nigerian students.

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