Today I encountered poem on a newspaper excerpt. ( m.thehindu/news/international/world/niger-to-ban-woman-and-children-from-sahara/article5308431.ece/?maneref=https%3A%2F%2Fgoogle.co.in%2F ) They died of thirst , it read. Those 92 migrants, on their way accross the desert. People are still digging out their identities, it said. But there were men , women and children ; and their numbers, they knew. But this is not the poem. Its in the journalists HORRIFYING DISCOVERY of the 92 migrants who died of thirst. Its in the Nigerian governments decision to ban women and children from travelling across- a camouflaging decisive politics that will shudder at the sight of an incorporative thirst. Its in the part which says mainly women and childrenthrowing light on abyssmal sand- burnt, sun- buried bodies for a feminist sentimental reader. Its in the shunning of these bodies to the inner page titled INTERNATIONAL NEWS.Its in the tragic that the foreign minister deceptively defines.Its in the concealing of the factual in Shafas voice- They died because they were thirsty and there was no one to help- no Nigerian government, no foreign ministers, no feminists, no nobody .Its in the revealing of statements feigning to be facts. WE DONT READ NEWS ANYMORE. WE READ POEMS. AND I AM NOT THIRSTY FOR THE SUN ANYMORE. THEY KILLED IT AS THEY WILL EVENTUALLY KILL SHAFA. BURN HER AND HER THIRST ALIVE. I AM NOT A POET ANYMORE.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 09:20:17 +0000
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