THE CHiLDREN OF THE WoRLD

Some of us just want to look into the eyes of whoever's watching over our lives and ask why there is no father in mine and mother is never fine.Some of us are angry at the scene we've been conceived in,Some of us play in the field,Some of us don't mind the mud,Some of us too frail to play.

--No such thing

My name is Abiku and it is quite unfortunate that I may not live long enough to drive. But that's the least of my problems right now, and to be honest —I don't want to be here either. I am alive again in this old world; my Father still drinks himself into the gutters, my mother remains an uneducated dependent and uncle Bola is still a peadophile rapist —deserving the worst possible death.

This morning, I've been forced to drink a dreadful brew of herbs. I often wonder what life could possibly rejuvenate from the agony of dead leaves and Stems. Although my taste buds may suffer every morning; it would not suffer as Onwa and the demons that plague her. Onwa's mother died during her birth so that makes her a witch. In the old days, she would have been taken into the forest and left to die, or sold into slavery. Today she takes a beating for even breathing in the wrong direction.

--Police are thieves

When Terry was born, I knew my 6 months old Dominic had found a best friend. My friend Janet would now take on a common moniker —Mama Terry. The birth of her first child, after seven years of being married, changed a lot more than her name. Papa Terry now comes home straight from work earlier than when she could swear he was bored of seeing just her at home —I low key think she is right, she's not much of an interest.

Eight years later, Janet and I are planning Terry's birthday party. She wants it like Dominic's but a lot more expensive —sensational. Since Dominic would be attending I may as well give him a good time. I confess I used the opportunity to get Dominic that toy gun he wanted as part of the party packs given to the children who were invited.

Papa Terry always made a big deal of his "first son"s birthday and didn't hesitate to make it the talk of town. He invites his close friends and family to Celebrate his miracle child.

I publish journals on gender inequality and descrimination but today I am giving guns to the boys and dolls to girls —and every parent seems okay with this image. Everyone of them is okay with their sons pretending to be thieves or police men. We played the game too when we were younger; pretending to shoot each other with hand gestures while mouthing the sound of gun shots.

I knew when heard a real gun shot. It came from the direction I saw Dominic and Terry run to. I didn't have to tell my legs to run to save my son from whatever danger announced itself. I find my son safe and standing over Terry. A stray bullet had gone through his chest.

Terry if you don't move, mummy says you'll rot and uncle Tom’s gonna bury you up.

Please Terry get up, please Terry wake up

The big white bus with the siren is here and the good doctor has come to take you away

Please Terry get up, please Terry wake up

When we played police and thief

Mother, he was captain Terry the chief of police

So why did the officer shoot him mum?! Is that why Terry's not moving? He must be upset, but the cop man said he was sorry and it was a mistake, why won't Terry get up?

Mother?

Father?