#tejuoso

2018 Budget: Why NASS included additional funding for Primary Healthcare - Tejuoso

Tejuoso, other monarchs to visit Abuja, pray against bloodshed - Nigerian Tribune

Please, don’t shoot. I understand that you may feel threatened by the richness of my heritage but please, don’t shoot. I’ve got hopes and dreams written down in my back pocket journal and I hadn’t planed to achieve them all by the time I turned 18 so please, give me a few more years. My mother has shed her fair share of tears over the past few years so please, don’t make her shed more. I hear you shot down another young man who kind of looked like me so I’m starting to feel like there’s some kind of bounty on my head. Maybe God loved having me in his kingdom so much that he offered a lifetime of fear hidden by self-righteousness to whichever one of you who could send me back to him the quickest. It may tempt you but please, don’t shoot. I know you hate the fact that I see the melanin in my skin as a blessing but Mama warned me that I may as well be a corpse if I don’t worship this epidermis. Sometimes I don’t feel safe, like my feet are poking out from underneath the duvet and on those days I hope the boogeyman is fast asleep because I reckon I’m on the top of his hit list. So please Mr Boogeyman, please, don’t shoot. I’m losing faith in this bible because it isn’t bulletproof even though the words are strung toughly together like my grandmother’s love but even she got a hole in her heart. These streets aren’t safe for me, and no matter how much music blares out my white earphones, I can still hear your eerie footsteps behind me in the back of my mind. I can still envision the black-hole of your gun barrel nuzzled against my forehead, making itself at home with the words “nigga, nigga, motherfucking nigga, nigga” rushing out your mouth like a stampede leaving every bone of my dignity shattered and bleeding black ink on the ground. my mama don’t deserve to see me like this. If you decide to kill me, please don’t plant a gun on my body. I don’t want my mother spending the rest of her days questioning her parenting. Mama, you did the best you could but you couldn’t have saved me. I know my father used to wear a crown made of gold but all I could find was this crown of thorns for myself… But my father’s first son used to wear one so, if you decide to shoot, you’ll be sending me home to Dad. I’ll try and put in a good word for you.