My name is Ugona, Chiadika, Lloyd or you can call me Tekena. Murdered by my brothers before a biased jury, Justice herself was absent. Men without souls administer their version of justice. What was my crime? No one will ever know because Justice was absent. I was murdered on the same street where a new mother was raped and her husband was made to hold the flashlight while she was being raped. I was murdered on the street where just a few weeks before I was killed, a young girl was found dead with her head cut off.
Mother, I am in a new place now. The clouds impede my vision; perhaps it is my tears but I can see your pain. Know that I am with you. I will forever be with you. There was so much that I wanted to live for. There were so many achievements that I wanted to attribute to you. I wanted to tell you about that special girl in my life. I wanted to tell you about my dreams and aspirations. There are so many promises that are left in the muddy slush and a puddle of my young and innocent blood. Mother, I am truly sorry.
I can barely watch the video of my demise. I laid in that muddy slush awaiting justice’s hands to whisk me away from the unflinching onlookers. Another blow to my head and empty pages of my unwritten chapters flashed through my eyes. It could have been a glorious future but the grim reaper had other ideas.
My tender life, nurtured in 9 months, sharpened in my terrible twos and set free in my eccentric adolescence ended with a blow my head. Mother, I tried to escape. I pleaded for my life. My bloodshot eyes searched for Lady Justice but she stood there, hands steady, and videotaped my demise. My gasp for leniency drowned in the sea the onlookers’ cheers.
I wish that the lynch men saw their reflections in the pool of my blood. I wish they could have seen the savagery that beset their eyes and their malicious intents wounded in a cloth of illiteracy. I wished the lynch man could have taken a moment to look into my innocent eyes. I wanted him to stop. I was told that my body was stripped of dignity and set ablaze. There was nothing I could do, Mother.
I gasped and pleaded for my life but the gavel had been lowered. Justice was rendered on my life without my consent. What was my crime? No one will ever know because Lady Justice stood there and let them take away my voice; my voice.
Revenge against those who took my life is simply not enough. I have paid a price that far outweighs a crime that I didn’t commit. Let those who were supposed to be guardians of justice hear your cry, mother. Let my blood fertilize the ground for my brothers and sisters to stand and demand for a better justice system – A system where everyone is entitled to adequate justice. A system where my brothers and sister won’t leave in fear. A system where my brothers and sisters can count on the government to fulfill their moral and civil obligations to the society.
I am not dead, mother. My spirit lives on. Let my mutilated body be the canvas upon which our new and better future is written. Until we meet again, I love you, mother.