By
Noel Ihebuzor
Point and kill
did not start here
but it is now everywhere here
in various forms
shapes and tastes
Ibari Ogwa tastes so different
from Abagana,
Abagana from Upper Iweka,
Upper Iweka from Ariara,
Ariara from Ibari Ogwa
Catfish hate catfish lovers
and other persons with sensitive palates
no need for them to worry
or be wary of
the new point and kill
the new point and kill experts
descend on bush meat
and grass cutters
after duty is done
when the cutting down
and slaughter for the day are done.
Young men with loud voices, drunk
on half defined dreams & ideas,
armed with belief and hope in excess
bubbling and foaming
like fresh palm wine
come to out to demonstrate,
They come out
to boldly ask why,
and how and when
fuelled by patchy tales,
about a past of suffering but of honor
of killings and rejection
and self affirmation,
Gladly the young men and women come,
spirits high, head high
The point and kill team deploy
pronounce the assembly illegal
order dispersal or “odawise”
The youths object, odighi eshi, and soon,
the point and kill commences
AK47s chatter and shatter
nzogbu-nzogbu chant dies
screams fill the air
live dreamers become dead heroes
on this painful lonely road
as confusion swells, an unending rain
of bullets
shatters body, bones and brain
Red flows freely
on the unequal field
on the pot hole filled streets
their stuffed gutters with no escape
the cream of a people,
scream and wither
Oyenusi and Anini
well robed, bound and roped
knew what was coming
still their frames shook and danced
exuded blood when the point
and kill team went to work
On this cruel road,
a steady stream of red
flows where bullets
flew and slew
soaking the land
For a few who walked this road,
their sun will never rise
in front or behind them again,
neither the half nor the full sun
neither will they see the mothers and aunties
as these wail
so many miles away,
in one lost rug suffocating room
some lost man
sticks some medal
on the chest of some other lost soul, for
pointing at and killing young men
but not their hazy dreams
which stream defiantly across
the midday mourning sky in quarters
Meanwhile in so many joints,
so many and same skies away
important minds dispute on which
point and kill tastes better –
Ibari Ogwa, Ariara, Upper Iweka
or Abagana?
Reflections 