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Raped in the Cemetery

OpinionGuest EssaysRaped in the Cemetery

By Da One

Once upon a time, there was a gathering of all the countries of Golden Kontinent at a Bantaba. The smallest of them all was HIIBON. The gathering was called to assess the progress of their collective lot and their individual prosperity. 

First to give her report was KORR KORR. Whilst the others looked on, she narrated how she over the years had avoided coup d’états by and large, but could not extinguish the flames of rebellion in one of her regions. She boasted of her democratic credentials recognized all over the world and her status as a “beacon of hope.” She started to sob uncontrollably as she began to recount how her smallest of children are sent begging in the streets for food despite having impressive skyscrapers and the many television stations both on and offline. Her most vulnerable (women and children) still turn to street hawking to take care of their families whilst those entrusted with running the affairs of the state, live by stealing and embezzling what belongs to all. She wiped her tears and lifted her eyes up to 419, who immediately understood that it’s her turn in the queue to speak. 

“I have vast oil reserves that are the envy of the world and I am the most populous nation in Golden Kontinent, still I have been constantly raped by military strongmen for more than I care to count”. She elaborates further on her gifts, especially her industrious sons and daughters and that she still remains poor because of endemic corruption.  

Next to speak up was FUUTA-JALOO. She emphasized the length, the size and the volume of water she has in her belly. This water, she maintained, supplies rivers both in KORR KORR and HIIBON. She admonished KORR KORR to stop crying. “From relative political stability in the past few decades, I am confronted with military takeovers of recent.” She welled up as she recounted how she was faced with a bleak feature, whilst the political operators scavenge for deals with her natural resources. Without waiting for her turn, KÉLÉ BANKU was already foaming at the sides of her mouth, heaving heavily as if the words will never come out, she mumbled on: “There were my two sons who have constantly taken me to hell, back and forth, Ansumana and Nino.” According to her, the Portuguese have decimated her population with bombs and her own children finished the work against each through the barrel of the Kalashnikov. Hence, the smallest amongst all, HIIBON, knew she needed to make a bit of a scene with her voice to be taken seriously by her big sisters. She first threw her hands in the air, in protest against waiting for too long for her turn.  

She recounted her horrific story of abuse in the hands of three presidents and their fixers. She said despite fifty-four years of independence, her children are abandoning her to migrate to Europe and America for she can’t properly feed, clothe and shelter them. She lamented on her poor education standards and a health system that’s calibrated to kill than to save lives. She said this is not her fault because she has been plundered like no one else. Anytime she thought she is about to have a break, one of her children will takeover to pimp her to get rich but also abuse her other two million sons and daughters. Even once, when she was thought to have died and was buried, one of her own sons visited the cemetery to rape her. 

To be continued………

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