Can you send the e-book of waiting for an angel by helon habila to my email. mosesopara64@gmail.com. God bless you.

I await your review. Love...

At times, Amadi got tired of being called a Nigerian, but he kept pushing, hoping, and working hard to withstand the double faces of his country. Some days, he thought of suicide when depression came knocking, but it wasn't an option he would say. He knew the country had nothing, no plans, no goals, no future for him and he must survive. His parents were too old to assist him again and he was the first child. Olaitan had traveled abroad in search of greener pastures with the help of his elder brother, who lives there with his family. Hassan, his right hand man is doing his masters in Canada. Amadi had no one, but a life filled with thoughts and nameless dreams. Death had looked at him several times and fled. There is no peace in the country, no love, no joy but fear of the unknown, of religious, ethnic, and tribal war. We only wear pretense to cover our fears. The east, west, and north had been in constant battles with robbery, insurgencies, attacks, conflicts, and poverty. The leaders are afraid to wash their pants of urine outside while the masses flee for their lives into silence not their own...

On the eve of Nigeria at 61, Amadi was on his way home from a client's house, when two police officer stopped him. They searched his bag and saw a laptop, they told him to kneel. He was trying to explain himself when one of them slapped him and called him a yahoo boy, because he made dreadlocks hairstyle, and the laptop they saw was an exhibit. They asked him which tribe he was, he said, Igbo. That pained them more. They called him all sorts of names and dragged him. He was trying to free himself from them. He struggled with one of them after they had collected all he had on him. They didn't want to free him. As he tried to force himself out and fight for his right, one of the police officers shot him.

He fell and screamed! I am not a criminal, I don't deserve to die like this." The police officers left his body lying helpless as he gasped for breathe, no one could come closer. Some were taking pictures of him to post on social media while they coined different versions of what happened to him. No one could take him to the hospital, their fear was they would be asked to bring a police report before he is treated. Flies surrounded his corpse as he left his identity to fill the vacant spaces of people's minds. His mind must have trapped the darkness, to himself who ones wore his body. There are times you feel God is silent. Some said it was his foolishness and stubbornness that killed him. Some said he was a yahoo boy. Some said he was a thief trying to escape from the police officers. No one blamed the police officers, they believed they did their duty. Different versions of his identity filled the air. He lied like a nameless young man, whose country failed. What do you think killed him? THEY SAID HIS COUNTRY KILLED HIM.


BY CHIBUEZE.

THEY SAID HIS COUNTRY KILLED HIM

"Like strangers, at night they return to their empty bodies
Hoping the silence won't suspect them
Like the screams of bad dreams
They try to punctuate in-between"... (culled from Bodies are Where you Find Them)
...

Amandihaneze is his full name but his coursemates called him Amadi. He was a young graduate and one of the brightest in his department during his days at the University of Ilorin. He always behaved like a nerd, you might see him talking to himself and arguing about the state of Nigeria. Sometimes, Amadi would leave home to a secluded place to study only to return looking like a man whose fears are afraid to tell him yes. His pragmatic and critical mindset always puts him ahead, he says his mind, but people hardly accept his concepts of life. There used to be a time when Amadi will sit alone in his room, not wanting any visitors, he will switch off his phone and shut himself from the world, the silent noise, and the daily gift of fear...

He always said, his country is like a prostitute who walks around looking for her daily bread, not minding how many drills bore her hole. He adjusted his sit, picked up a pen, and wrote down an idea that strolled through his mind and faced his friend who had been reading "Soldiers of Fortune" by Max Siollun.
...
"My man, the mantra one Nigeria is a mirage, na correct scam. We hate the truth, yes we hate to hear the truth in this country. The problem be say Nigerians no dey read, no only few like to dey read." Amadi said to Olaitan his erudite friend.

"We hate the truth Amadi, Nigerians like lies. They lie to get almost everything. We were lied to from the start that we can be together. They said, the Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba are brothers but words are cheap. What is unity, love, peace and justice when we are not truthful to ourselves? We were lied to about our history. It is only knowledge that can save us."
...

The rate at which we hide the truth in our hearts and tell ourselves lies was one of the reasons we hold unto ethnicity, tribe, and religion when we want to judge those we call our brothers. The country will soon become 61 years old, Amadi was not glad that she is old but only glad for his life. Glad that he was able to escape death several times in the north, during his NYSC days. Nigeria will tell you yes and say no when you try to climb the ladder. She will hail you and stab you and attend your funeral with a mourning smile. In this country, religion is our opium. We are religious but don't follow the part of love and peace. The Muslims would say the Christians are their enemies. The Christians would say the Muslims are their problem... Hate them. Kill them. Destroy them and their places of worship. You drown your humanity, betray and kill your brother for money and religion.
...

The morning was young. The street of Iyana Ipaja was filled with sleepless market women and men trying to call forth the blessings of the day. Screams of Oshodi, Ajanbad, Orile, Mushin... embraced the morning. Some men and women from different churches attacked the morning with loudspeakers screaming "Hallelujah! As they spread the good news of the kingdom of Christ. The loudspeaker of a mosque behind the central park awakened our consciousness with "Allahu Akbar" People with tired and painted faces walked up and down looking for their places of temporary rest to begin their hustles. Some criminals sat beside the park looking for whom to steal from and disgrace. Everyone wants to survive. What is the importance of celebrating a country that will steal from you and tell you to do your worst? What is the significance of independence we weren't prepared for? What is the importance of keeping hope alive, when your heart is telling you another version of the truth?