Monday, 21 May 2007

The voyeurs in our midst

I really am now fond of blogging. It's sort of a diary for me. When I was in London last year, I was inspired by the numerous cameras and cctvs that were in almost every public place. Although, these cameras are highly efficient in creating a crime free society, I just thought of an extreme case. An extreme case, where the world governments have complete access to the life of all its citizens, through cameras and cctvs. I used Nigeria as my focal point. It's also lon, but read and leave your comment.


Oju

I could swear someone was behind that wall, piercing me with his eyes. The wind isn’t blowing

the way it is supposed to. Someone is interfering with it. I know that I am not seeing things, when

I see a silhouette cast on the steel ceilings. It is fleeting and acting like a shy bride that is meeting

her groom for the first time. But, don’t be fooled by that calm face and subdued eyes, those

talons strike like hunger.

“When will you stop staring at that cameras” Tolu burst out. I knew she was

disgusted by my loss of focus. She was whispering to me on her ravings on the

government. She spoke in a manner that I only heard her. No one certainly wanted those

venomous chameleons to hear us. Yet, Tolu told me, how she wished she could see a

butterfly again. She holds me close to her, tears trapped in her in sullen eyes. I knew what

she was thinking. She wished she could see our father again. I close my eyes; I sure did

not want everyone to see me cry. Not here! Certainly not in this ravenous gathering.

Those beasties are still staring at me, watching my every move. I certainly will not give

them the pleasure of seeing me cry. “We are on our own now” Tolu says. I nod my head

in agreement. It is funny how time can be so cruel. One minute I am sitting in the park

playing catch with my father and sister, the next two years I am here in this camp with

my sister. It never was really good anyway. But, it was far better than this. At least, I

could go anywhere, without being chased by these voyeuristic chameleons. My father

would open the newspapers, and rave all he wanted, but now, Tolu can’t rave openly

from newspapers. There are no newspapers, those things are constitutions. There’s no

freedom here, neither is there west. They came like wind and we all danced to their tune

like branches sway to spring breeze. “How did all these happen?” Tolu whispers

covering her mouth. I look at her with an empty face. She isn’t surprised either, she just

pats my head. I know we were all too greedy to see. That life was too perfect to refuse, at

least by our standards. No work, no struggle, we all lay on our backs. We were fed like

dogs owned by the elites. We were all blind to see what would befall us. Those

chameleons placed fear in our food. By this time it was too late, they were masters, and

we were slaves.

The chimes moan, as we all sit, expecting supper. We are all having soup. I know

that. In fact, that is what we have the days the chime rings thrice. The older people are

resting their backs to the walls. Their eye bags impregnated with grief. One would expect

that their skins would have gotten stuck to the walls. They stayed there all day. Even after

Tolu had come back from tilling the field with other adolescents, she still saw them there.

When I come back from the concentration schools, I still met them there. I guess that is

why they are tagged “reliant”, while Tolu and the rest “tiller”. Tolu hated to till the fields.

She would whisper to me, on how there is so much from the fields, but little for us to eat.

We all queued as soup was served.. I really didn’t know if it was tomato or mushroom

soup, it was just soup. I sipped the soup, not expecting my tongue to wallow in sinful

pleasures. This days,my stomach is of higher priority than my tongue. Tolu didn’t look

up, she kept gulping the soup. One of the older men stared into my eyes, while sipping

his soup. He didn’t look at his hands. He really didn’t need to look to steer his spoon, the

soup was cold. He looked at me and then stared at the cameras. “Oju” he blurted. He

looked down into his soup, like he was expecting a chunk of meat. He raised his head to
me and said “the eyes have ears”. After lunch, the chameleons took him. The executioner was sure to have a thrill tonight

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