Frankenstein

Mrs Amarachi Promise Esomonu cr!es out for justice following the gruesome k!ll!ng of her three children by a careless driver in Rivers state💔🥲

You think I'm happy living abroad? I have a family I grew up with, whom I love with all of my heart - and the reality keeps dawning on me, on how many times I will see them before I one day turn 60. People I saw daily, or once a month - I haven't seen in years, and would realistically only see once a year, going forward. You think I'm happy? That one day, I might end up having children and my siblings might not have the relationship with them - the relationship I had with my uncles, in my formative years? I remember clearly how they would take us to MrBiggs every Sunday - I am currently reliving the flavour from that meatpie. How we would go to the family house in Ikeja, every year for Eid. The grandchildren uniforms, the snacks while watching your uncles slaughter rams. You think I'm happy that I might one day lead a family of children who might not know their version of that? WTF will I be doing in another man's land, if I did everything they asked me to do from childhood (face your studies, be exceptional, stay away from crime, be hardworking) and opportunities lined up for me to be the best I could, in my motherland? WTF will I be doing here? Why will I condescend myself to living in a clime where I have to mentally switch from sun burning weather to teeth clenching winter - when I came from a land where I never needed gloves? You think I'm happy? If I could do honest work, be on my way home and not have to bother about the risk of getting shot by the people meant to protect me, because I have some lines of tattoos on my body - you think I would leave? If I could trust a justice system to defend me, ensure my rights even though I am a nobody - have trustworthy institutions banking on the highest standards, not have to worry about the bread I eat, the fake drinks from the club or streets, the fake drugs - you think I would leave? Don't get me wrong. I am grateful for the opportunities this clime has given me, to test my limits - to be everything I thought I could be. But all of these, in replacement for the soul I grew up with? You know the satisfaction that settled within me when I could wake up on a Saturday morning, stroll to the Iya wanke's place - relish an entire plate, or some ewa agonyin while watching children battle it out, in a 5 v 5 across the streets. That communal living that relished my soul, is now replaced with silent streets and finely divided sealed terraces. You walk through the city centres in the evenings - you see friends having an aperitif (they do so every evening), you see grandfathers meeting up with their children, you see entire families with extended families living across the streets, first cousins are even able to use the same gym and you remember what that looked like for you back home? You think of all your friends scattered across continents, some you might never get to hug again. For a lot of diasporans, you don't want Nigeria to work more than us. A lot of us want to come home, but what is home? Where is home? When will home feel like home? I hope to continue living life without lack, in comfort, with accomplished dreams - but I want to do so, with soul. When I die one day, I want to do so - with soul.