By Wale Fatade
It’s been 12 days now that terrorists struck and my mind has been so scrambled that I don’t know what to write. Killing one of the kidnapped teachers broke me down because I kept on thinking he could have been my father. You see, my father was a teacher for 36 years and he started teaching in village schools. My earliest memories include him leaving us on Sunday afternoon and returning on Friday afternoon.
But that teacher is no more simply because he wanted children and young people to live better lives. And we simply moved on, or many of us moved on. Primaries, if they’re worth being called that, never stopped across all parties. Even teachers could only call for fasting and prayers, no procession or protest to call attention to the dead and those in captivity. Why are we so immune to evil and suffering?
But some of us cannot move on. Probably because I know the area very well or probably because I love teachers too much or just because I know it doesn’t bode well for our society. No one is sure if those in captivity are well or how they’re faring. Yet, we are moving on.
As you demolish your ram today or relax since it’s a holiday, just think about the children and their teachers with their families too. Demand better from our elected officials and remember e fit be you o.
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