Post by Mayowa Yusuff (@mayorsunky)

A PLACE NOT LIKE HOME.

"There's no place like home," they say. But how true can that be when our shelters cannot shield us from the scorching sun or the pounding rainstorms, making sunburns and shivers our newest reality? Safety has become a moving mirage that we endlessly chase as we journey through the fields. Pests repeatedly rob us of the fruits of our fertile soil, while we stand helpless, too incapacitated to stop them.

The future of our children lies hidden beyond a foggy horizon as they languish in the den of thieves. Yet the king seems more concerned with preserving his status than safeguarding the leaders of tomorrow—hoping the thieves will have a change of heart rather than taking decisive action. Even the elders and priests fold their hands and watch the wreckage unfold, as though they are on the king's payroll.

Our fellow kinsmen sympathize with the unfortunate victims of chaos for a fleeting moment, only to return to their daily routines as though nothing happened. They forget that a menace to one should be a menace to all. Is this truly home, or merely a foretaste of a hell where teeth gnash beneath showers of red-hot lava? Who will save us from this cataclysm?

Let us face the truth: the political structure of our dear nation resembles a narcissistic mother who feeds on her own young. How long shall we remain emotionally attached to a mother who nurtures her child only so she may feast upon that child in her season of hunger? Will we continue to entrust our survival to those who profit from our suffering, or will we take responsibility for our collective future? Will we insist on accountability through lawful action, civic courage, and unwavering resistance to the unscrupulous?

The choice is ours.

Our PVC... Our unwavering resistance. Get your PVC Today!!!

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God bless Nigeria, even as Nigeria bleeds.

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