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Nana Bee Scribes

Islam. Life. Cosmos

MR RAZAK’S CHARGER!!!

beehI know my life is like a crazy box sometimes; perhaps, often times! Right now, I have three things ruminating my mind: how to be a better me, how to find a misplaced charger, and how to clear my mind.

Note that this post may be less beneficial than my previous posts – if you actually have been finding them beneficial. It might even seem like a no-direction piece to you eventually, so if you’ve got no time to spare, runnnnn. If not, then ride along with me pal! J

I just gulped down a sachet of pure water and so, my head is clearing. In retrospect, i have been enduring the pains tearing at my head from every corner of it, because i didn’t drink enough water after my brunch! and yeah, I can’t do without water 😦  Hear what the Doctor says each time: “you need 6 litres of water everyday Aisha!” But no! if i hear say i drink 4 seff

Now to the Proper of this discuss:

  • HOW TO BE A BETTER ME

Yeah guys. i am the ugly version of myself and i am not even bluffing L. Think of Aisha Harun as a person; complete as God has made her, and believe me, you’d perceive nothing but wholeness. You’d see perfection in form of uniqueness. You’d see beauty worthy of lofty admiration. You’d see a legendary being. You’d seee….. *sigh* I am sighing because all those aren’t what you’d see. They are what you SHOULD see but you wouldn’t see them.

Here is the noise that’s been blurring the actual message – I am first of all, a huge procrastinator! And trust me, i am not doing what should be done, enough, to reel that off my sleeves. I need help!!!! Only that you can’t help me, i just gatta sit up and help myself! To be honest with you guys, that’s the best way to go – not only for me, but for everyone out there looking to make a difference! The change you wanna see in yourself begins with how you handle the situation.

Asides procrastinating, i am not a person full of vigor “naturally.” The energy that an average human exhumes is like times 2 of my entire energyL. But i am not a chicken aha! I am just some rare egg that belongs in a throne “literarily more than the actually meaning of that uno.” This one is kinda beyond me but there’s God. I need only turn to Him. Abi?

And here is the last – I HATE being praised. When someone says: “Hey! That’s so wonderful girl. Keep it up!” it extinguishes my morale. I know. It’s weird but that’s one thing I have no power over. I just don’t know why a ‘thumbs up’ should make me ‘face down.’ But it does and I am working on it. We all get praised for one thing or the other at every point in time in our lives, and I believe no one should be less inspired for a “thumbs up.” So Aisha, you gotta shake that off! ASAPpray

  • THE MISPLACED CHARGER

“Have you found mr Razak’s charger?” I have been asking around all day. I even asked the top-boss :-O Poor me L

I used Mr Razak’s charger yesterday and returned it to his backpack before leaving for home. This morning however, he told me the charger I had kept in his bag isn’t his. Then whose?

I found out, later on, that the one I had returned is the secretary’s. Someone else had detached my phone yesterday and taken away Mr Razak’s charger but I didn’t pay attention to that fact. I just picked up my phone from the desk, grabbed the only available charger in sight – because it looked exactly like Mr Razak’s  – and went on to deposit it into his bag. He had travelled to a nearby state and would only return later – after closing hour.

So guys, keep the charger in your duaa! May Allah help it find its way back to us. Everybody is worried now.

  • HOW TO CLEAR MY MIND

No one’s mind is ever stack clear. NOONE! But someone’s mind could be near clear: Free like a bird in the skies and smooth like the evening breeze against one’s fore-arms. Awwwww. Sounds cool right?

Something’s been bothering me since last night and trust me, it’s like a wet log on my mind – heavy, damp, and crumby! I didn’t know what to do nor how to push it out of my mind until an idea struck me. To pray! So I observed sallah and I felt better.

But here is it man, life never leaves you happy for so long. I learnt from Dr Qarni’s book that

man barely stays happy all through a day, without encountering something that would cause him distress.

I cried and prayed and then thought of those words and I shook it off! It was WORLD PASTA DAY yesterday, so I ate some spaghetti to wash off the thought. Man cannot comman die abeg.

Albeit, I still am thinking of that thing till this moment.  Am in other words, bothered!L Well,  I just need you to help say “AMEEN’ to my prayers. Perhaps, that’s the solution outta this one! Pheew!

Have a nice day!

PS – i didn’t design those images. They are memes

Aisha the foodie

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The heading above gives you an insight to the content that’s following now. you shake your head, grin, or perhaps, coo with a little swerve that “i’ve finally admitted what a foodie i am” – for those who already know me. If you didn’t know me, here is what you may be thinking: Oh? is she actually a foodie? Or does she intend to say the reverse of what the heading depicts? How would one even admit that she is a foodie? Is she gonna talk about herself or some other Aisha? …and the list could be endless. And hey! if you didn’t know already, know it now. I am Aisha! Aisha Harun to be precise. And believe it when i say i hate to not use my name as my username for this blog, fate just always has different plans! Besides, “Nanabee” is so cool. Such a cool .. de plume that i am eternally grateful that Allah granted it to me. hehehehe 🙂

Shall we get serious here and now?.?

Food can be said to be any substance, consumable, and beneficial to the body, giving it the nourishment and vigor it requires. We are not in a food class, so i would assume further reiteration about what food means isn’t necessary here. However, it is paramount that i include, that food is also any edible substance with attraction, aroma, and also with the capability of triggering hunger – that might not have been perceived before one comes in contact with food. And yes! food is attractive. Many would go for a particular meal over the other at a ceremonial function because the former looks well garnished and/or smells so nicely. In fact, hunger sometimes dissolves into thin air when outlining the reasons why some people eat as much as they do. They don’t feel hungry but they are inevitably attracted to the food. So bang! They attack with their harmless but steel weapons of spoons and forks. Need i say here, that food is like fine wine (for those who have a comprehensive understanding of the pertinence and joy it proffers) or like a beautiful bride: untouched, physically bounteous and ready to be relished by one deprived of for a time too long. In essence, when a man eats good but delicious food, he forgets his woes – even if it for the minutest of seconds. The question that springs forth then is, “How there you call such person a foodie? How dare you? Aha!

imagesThink about your life and the events that have portrayed themselves in it. Reflect over your likes and desired properties and valuables you have always wanted to acquire; albeit the ones you have acquired. Does “eating surface on the list?” why then should you eat as though it were the top of your to-do list each day (and still consider yourself as no foodie)? if you ask me, i would say it is because it is as necessary as every other thing i intend to covet in life because, food is the fuel for the body. But No! saying that automatically makes me a foodie.

If i commend a plate of amala and abula , garnished with shaki, fuku, and kpomo (assorted meats) i would be tagged a foodie! If my display picture on social network carries the picture of “nkwobi” with a sweating cup of orange juice beside it, i am a foodie! To ruin it all, if i am found devouring a plate of a properly prepared porridge, some unique casserole or even rice, beans and dodo with maybe kpomo that had been long drowned in soup (making it so curled up), ahhh…. i just affirmed their presumptions. I, Aisha, am a hopeless foodie!

Let’s get practical a while – for those who are familiar with the funke Akindele current series-
If you eat as much as kiki does in “JENIFA’S DIARIES,” i really wonder what category you fall in. If you would compare yourself to the way jenifa eats,  you are like I am :). if you are no more than toyosi – barely ready to cook but almost always prepared to eat, i could be better than you are. But if you are “Adaaku – shoo gbojookuni?” congratulations my friend. we have just located the foodie in the heading above! *grins*

On a serious note, Islam teaches us to appreciate the provisions made by Allah but that we shouldn’t let extremities take charge. The prophet (pbuh) relished different dishes, drinks, and sweets during his days. History revealed that he loved bread, honey, milk, and dates! No, you wouldn’t! you wouldn’t know all that. You would rather eat little food because you watching your weight. you would barely eat fruits as you already bought yourself some snacks and cant be superfluous in your spending. Besides, Aisha is the foodie here not you. init?

Get the point fam. Read the words rather the ink of which they have been crafted.

The fact that a person appreciates the beautiful colour that each variety of food is adorned with (by the Almighty), the fact that I like to have a taste of, not just a single type of food (for i am no food racist, aha!), the fact that i eat fruits before a meal, while relaxing, or suck on a candy while studying does not make me a foodie. And then, the fact that you don’t do all that but eat only thrice a day does not make you any less of a foodie!

Some of these people who tag others foodie, eat with bowls big enough to house a baby during its shower, thrice on a daily basis and still say “Why are you such a foodie?” to people like us. Biko who are you deceiving?

i am making no suggestions that we eat for countless times in a day or make every food item a commuter into our intestines. i am simply saying, know the difference! appreciate food, savour the taste of each variety, eat but with moderacy and know the difference between what a foodie is and what it’s not!

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And here we are readers, it’s still like a puzzle for whomsoever got carried away by the flow rather than the message (like i usually do when i read an article tirelessly.) It’s okay uno. You can read again to find out if i am a foodie or not :). Just know one thing for sure: moderacy is the key to leaving a healthy life (even in matters with no relations with food.)  If you eat varieties moderately and you’re tagged foodie, turn your “deaf ear mode” on. Shikena!

Warning: this post is not give a generally accepted definition of the word “foodie” but to change your notion as to how to use the word appropriately. Quoting me could hence, land in you in a foodie mess… :’)

Thanks for reading.

yours,
Nana bee

When Wishes become Horses: Salam Namaste

indian-traditionThere is a proverb that says: if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. Well, for me, wishes have been horses, and i enjoyed the rides to reality, from mere wishes. Alhamdulillah – though i am no beggar 😀

It was a sunny day and i was in one of the classrooms at school. The regular cheers, banter and all was going on amongst the students and i was enjoying the thrill that flowed with the muses. However, i was more focused on a student comedian who was exchanging pleasantries with some of his colleagues.

As i watched on, i noticed the boy was greeting and hailing his friends from place to place. He would greet jack, move on to the next row to pat harry on the back, and then proceed to exchange a handshake with tom and so on (i used those names bacause i know not their names.) Then i noticed he did something to one of his friends. Rather than greet him like he did the others by standing, he bent down to touch the feet of his friend and then returned his hands to his forehead, clasping both palms. I watched with amusement as this act reminded of scenes from indian movies. I had never seen anyone do that in reality since i was sane enough to comprehend or recollect the happenings around me.

As i watched on, i saw him do this for about three times and his friends hailed him, laughed and jeered him to stop. His actions are usually humorous enough to in fact, rock an entire audience, not alone his parlance – very captivating! Though i paid attention to this particular student because of his humour and the humility he often displays, i was carried away by that act of greeting i saw him perform. I found myself thinking of being greeted in the same way and how much i would laugh at the silliness of it all. I wondered if i could perhaps greet someone that way and watch them remember the scenes they have watched it on, in indian movies. In short, i just wish it could happen with me being the do-er or the doee (is that even a word? aha!) Alas, i was making a silent wish that i dint even realize i was making at that moment, until a week after.

*****

I was standing in front of a lecture room when a boy in his freshman walked up to me. I had not seen him coming, so the effect his greetings had on me was even more galvanizing.

He went straight to touching the tip of my shoes and raising his hands to his head and then doing it again, for at least three times.

My God! Was this not the same greetings i had yearned for – just the previous week?As i grinned uncontrollably at him, he started to explain that he was greeting me in the manner of the indians and that a respectable person should be greeted so, had we been in that part of the world. But his explanation was not even needed. He had done me the favour of having my wish come true without even knowing it. We exchanged further pleasantries, talked about study and then, he went his way but i didn’t go mine. I just couldn’t get over it so quick. I stood by the rail across from the lecture room and pondered the wonderment of Allah. He is “aalimul-gayb washahadah…” He is He who grants requests and fulfills desires. i was grateful for that little wish that He granted me and then i had a rethink of the proverb “if wishes were horses…” changing it absentmindedly to “wishes could be horses too.” for indeed, my wish had become a horse.

Guilty as charged

 

She rose at about 5:30, exactly an hour after her alarm went off. It was becoming a routine, gradually. She was beginning to hate the whole process of wanting to be disciplined. She didn’t want to care anymore. She just wanted things to go easy. Ease. How she loved an easy life!

As she dragged herself out of bed she remembered everything she needed to have woken up with on her mind. She had finally found her bearing. Life was just seeming to occur as a reality to her; again. An inevitable territory for struggle. She put on her flip-flops of determination even before she wore the physical one lying before her on the floor.

She needed to sweep the entire house like she always does every morning. Food must also be ready by 7:45am!
“Why didn’t I sleep earlier last night?” happened to be the only thoughts ruminating her mind as she stroked the tiles of the living room with the haggardly short broom. She wasn’t prepared for any hiatus in her activities that morning. She just wanted a clear – almost blank – mind as she swept the pieces of papers, crumbs of cookies and other particles alongside the dust that glamoured the living floor.

“Tade!!!” bellowed aunty moji. She couldn’t but reply as the broom already announced that she was right there, within earshot. As she replied, her aunt cut-in, “Where were you last night?” She need not say any more words. She had been caught and wouldn’t go scot free this time.
She had been careless enough to leave tracks of her dern this time and her aunt’s promise, that she would be sent back to the village if found guilty of that act would now come to past.
“What garment of humiliation has she just sewn for herself? She has engineered her own doom and didn’t even leave any loopholes behind to make her opportune for denial. Well, Life must continue, I have to face this…” The thoughts went on and on. She dropped the broom and went in to aunty moji in the kitchen, kneeling as she ventured in. “Kneeling wouldn’t solve a thing. But then, you never can tell” she said to herself as she started to plead.
©Nana bee
October, 2016

Fit to Win

jogThroughout my studentship in the University, there has been no time I smiled at my results as much as I did after my second semester; well, so far. As a novice to the University system, as well as being a person who had been away from the class environment for a period long enough to enter a new leap year from the leap year before, I found so many activities difficult. It was a struggle and a war I couldn’t fight without tears or consolation from my kins. Even with that, it still was an arduous experience.

In my first semester I didn’t care about results. I just wanted to have “Cs”; having heard what “D” stands for and look like. D , to me, was the beginning of failure. (Need I say that C isn’t a good result? If you are about to go in there to make wave, let “B” be your pass mark.) My worries compounded on my Matriculation day. I received a test-script and my score was, in all sense, depressing. If I hadn’t prepared for the test, if I didn’t study like a student should, I wouldn’t have being bothered. But failure after work always presents a form of sadness incurable! I was sad for the rest of the day. I retreated to my room and stopped the celebration I allowed myself to relish with my colleagues earlier on. I was bothered now, about how I had written the answers to number 3 under question 5, incurring poor scores for myself.

I started to talk to a colleague – one of those whose brilliance would forever shock you, as they never make efforts to study to know, to them, it just comes easy like breathe. And here is the deal my friend. The fit to make you lead the rest. The exact way I helped to keep my mind open whenever I wanted to study.

That colleague of mine, told me to quit the “non-stop” read style I had imbibed and relax awhile. “The body and mind needs some exercise before it should be put to work each time. Do something to keep your mind at home and all the day’s stress.” He would say.

Of the numerous ways to exercise, I chose jogging. I made it a duty to jog after fajr (dawn prayer) every morning before each day’s routine. And alas, it was the best choice I ever made. Though I felt pains and was discouraged right from the scratch, but my goal was my drive. I believed so much in what this colleague had prescribed and wanted to see how it worked.

As I made progress with assimilation, I found that some other mates had joined in exercising every morning too. Only that majority thought I just wanted to keep fit. Deep down however, I knew I wanted to win. And I did win. i checked my second semester results and I gave gratitude to the almighty, for helping choose the fit style to study.beginners-page

Are you fit? Do you even exercise at all? To stay healthy, keep in good shape or have a clear mind? Muslims are far from the word “fail.” They are people who know how to grab the Bull by the Horns! They seize the opportunities life presents them and make efforts to get better, each day.

DON’T FORGET TO STAY FIT!

 

Eight O’clock in the Morning

bumbee

She was late twice that week already. It was getting into her routine like it used to in the past. But she wasn’t going to let that happen that Friday. She was determined that she would get ready in another five minutes. Her chores had gotten her late again, but no! The chores wouldn’t have a laugh. She was going to ensure her being late for work, that day, wouldn’t come to past.

One reason she had started going late was that she didn’t want the ride anymore. Mr Musty had picked her up for the first time on a morning as cold as every other morning since she resumed. Not too cold but enough to register a feeling of calamity in one. A feeling only to be relished in the house. Not at work.

She was not even paying attention to the road until she realized that the black car that stopped a stone throw from where she was, had stopped for her. The car halted there, waiting like it was the most natural thing to do – to wait for her to get in the back seat and then zoom off; which was the exact thing she did.

The ride was just for about 3 minutes as she had neared the company already. Ordinarily, her house to the company would take her 10 minutes of walk, which she enjoyed each day. Unlike the walk to school, this walk was short and exercising; giving her a sense of physical security. She sat at the back seat and just glanced at the road ahead. There was no talking between Mr Musty and her.

As he dropped her off, she thanked him and went to sign in for the day. Two days later, he picked her up again. This day, it was even shortly after she turned into the road from her street. He had waited and she had not seen him again; until she noticed that a car wasn’t moving and it was black. On the first day he had opened the door for her; leaning over from the front to pull the knob and push the door slightly for her to know it was she he had stopped for. This time around however, he just sat there waiting for her to notice the car had stopped and when she actually did, she opened the door and got into the back seat; for the second time that week.

She noticed the car was more clogged than the first time. There weren’t plenty of stuff in it, than there were the first time. But it felt stuffy and a smell hung in the air. She gasped for air. She looked around the car for brief seconds and then refocused on the road. She glanced sideways as they approached the company gate and saw that the gateman looked at her for what seemed like a second or two. Some other staff that stopped to greet Mr Musty also took a glance at her. She was new there, and it was normal to have people wonder who she was or what department she worked at.

That morning in the car, she wondered if she could tell him what she was thinking: she didn’t want the rides. No one would understand that you are turning down their offer to give you a ride simply because you would rather have preferred your concise peaceful walk. She didn’t want to be rude or ungrateful, so she just said “thank you” when he dropped her off that morning.

The Monday that followed, she delayed her going to work. She didn’t want a ride and neither did she want to refuse one. She figured the best way was to avoid running into him or he running into her and stopping to have her hop in. On Tuesday, she delayed herself again and same happened on Wednesday. She was now getting to work around 8:02/8:03 rather than her usual 7:45 am. She hated that. She wasn’t going to be a late comer anymore because of a ride she can choose to refuse or accept.

Though she had prepared her mind to leave home earlier on this day, she was already getting accustomed to the self-imposed delays she had cultivated some few days back. Stepping out of the street and unto the road on Thursday, she glanced at the direction the car always descended from and hoped she would catch a sight of the black cloggy car. As it was already Eight O’clock in the morning.

Lousy Fog

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I am tired
Of this wait,
This lane,
This phase.

I ain’t inspired
By this weight,
Of this plane,
From the space.

I am clustered
By this drought,
From this clan,
It’s like a trance.

I have no placard
For this frost,
This heaty-wetty clone,
Lingering at my heart’s entrance

I would get battered
If I extend no combat,
To this strain,
Blurring my countenance.

Aisha Harun (Nana bee)
August, 2016

Silent Approvals

 

 

Salat is a means of communicating with Allah. As Muslims, it is expected d that salat is observed 5 times a day; asides the voluntary salat like nawafil (extra prayer after certain obligatory prayers), tahajjud (predawn/midnight prayer observed best in the third part of the night) and a few other prayers offered to seek Allah’s counsel, to ask Allah for particular needs e.t.c. It is important to note, however, that the compulsory salat which are offered 5 times a day are to be observed at their appropriate “times.”

There are certain conditions to salat that one would learn alongside the art of observing the salat. Though a lot just pray, without the required practice that should be ascribed to the prayer, it is worthy of note that Salat is a tool for communicating and linking with Allah. In other words, your heart should feel more than your body should bend, kneel and succumb to the act of worship while you are doing it. You shouldn’t feel as blank as you were or same as you felt before embarking on the Salat journey.

As I observed my nawafil this afternoon with Maryam observing hers by my side, I also prepared my mind to observe Salatu Dhuhr with her after our individual rounds of nawafil. We could pray the obligatory salat together as a congregation because there was no male present in the house. She finished her nawafil before me and then instead of sitting to wait for me to finish mine so we could observe dhuhr together, she got up and made another round of prayers.

I knew we should pray together but thought she changed her mind. It was not until I remembered that the voluntary prayers to be made before Salatu Dhuhr could be four rakaat that I figured she wasn’t making the actual salat yet. She was offering two extra rakaat to sum up her nawafil to four. I made two more rounds of nawafil myself and then, there she was on the identical prayer rug we were both using, awaiting my closure for my nawafil so we could pray Salatu Dhuhr together.

Without exchanging words, we stood up to pray together with our feet touching and our heart in the direction of our creator. Together, we encouraged each other in good by observing the voluntary and later the obligatory salat in unity, without much more than “Silent Approvals.”

Alhamdulillah for Islam.

Aisha Harun (Nana bee)

 

Not Guilty as charged

Hit this Link for the Post that inspired mine. https://ibrofoto.wordpress.com/2016/08/12/behind-the-bars/

Read this then.

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“…even when the nights are long, the sun would always rise. We are now in a storm but i am starting to see clear skies, coz there is hope. There is always hope!…..”.

 

The lines above are words of the poet Amal Ahmad Albaz in a poem titled “Ya Balady.” I have used it as an opening for this post as “ibrofoto” sought of ended his posts with similar words. I am supposed to be sharing this post with just a few lines, but i think it deserves a sequel. It is one issue that no one thinks of or about, until he/she has someone in that situation, perhaps, himself!

I was in the middle of a story when I received the link for the post “behind the bars” which made me drift from the book I was engrossed in a while. As I read through the lines of the post, I found a hint of familiarity between the story I was reading and the content of the blog post. To keep you off the dark dear reader, the story I was reading is titled “Cell One.”

“Cell One” is a cell in a prison in Enugu, Nigeria, where ‘toughened criminals’- according to the Police Officers in charge – are kept. A boy was caught amongst some other cult members and was moved along with them to prison. Though innocent, he was at the right place at the wrong time. To clear your doubt, he wasn’t moved to “Cell One.” None of them was. They however, all knew about this mysterious Cell and the many tortures that took place in it.

All in all, an old man, of about seventy years of age, was soon brought to the prison, and kept with the other criminals in the same cell as the boy who was wrongly arrested. The seventy year old convicted even though “not guilty as charged” was in the prison because the police couldn’t locate his ‘run-away’ son, whom the man himself had not seen for the past four months! Imagine the irrationality. Not seeing your child in a long while and being arrested for the crimes of that same missing child. Of what use was the man to the prison if not to be put in the mouth of death itself. This man did not do anything and has no information to assist the police for further investigations but was still held custody.

Unable to bear the credulous treatment the old man was getting besides himself, the innocent boy spoke out on behalf of the man and dared the policemen. In the end, his reward for yelling at officers and standing up for a fellow prison inmate was “Cell One”, the place for top criminals.

____________________________________

Life is a place where the sales of “hope” is the only affordable commodity. No one can buy freedom except for the “filthy” rich; if you are rich and “clean”, then sorry bro. you still don’t meet the requirements. We have now been corrupted by forces beyond the ability of our innocence. No one can afford to be innocent anymore. The prison: a place to soften criminals – psychologically, and give to them a sense of remorse and conviction to change for the better has now become a place where sane minded people are rendered insane. It’s like a place for the letter O and figure 0 to be kept altogether, for you can barely tell the difference between a suspect and a criminal in the actual sense of it.

In retrospect, Dr. Josephine Obiadulu Okei-Odumakin, a woman rights activist, who has been arrested severally and been detained for about 17 times was in the University of Ilorin Auditorium, on the 24TH of May 2016, to address us students on the theme “Gender Equality: A might or reality” struck me like a true fighter, which she indeed is. She was enthusiastic and astonishing with her words and a mere glance at her would tell you how much of an emblem of freedom she is. The clips displayed on the screen while she made her speech to the congregation of students, was what actually left me completely overwhelmed. This woman, to my wonderment, was in one of the slides, being dragged by the police in what seemed like a black lorry. She was of course arrested for coming out in the open to fight for the rights of her fellow country people and there she was, being dragged like a criminal. But then, isn’t that the crime of our times? Isn’t speaking up for the oppressed and blurting the truth, no matter how bitter, the biggest of crimes of today? But again, there is always a silver lining in the dark clouds. Goodness would never leave you no matter how many times you get dragged in the mud for it.

Prisons are not the den of oppressors as we think. You must know that tons of innocent civilians are tortured daily for crimes yet to be committed. No one gets an alert for an accident before its occurrence. No one would have foreseen he would be convicted for the crime he did not commit. To be more explicit, you wouldn’t know who is next to fall victim to these oppressors punishing the oppressed and claiming it is vis-à-vis. There are Criminals for sure (in the actual sense of it), but then, there are Criminals with no crime to account for.

You may ignore this for it isn’t your business, but remember those who would stand up for you if tomorrow, God forbids, you are wrongly convicted. You need not go miles to rebuke the crimes of our time. All you need do is to start with yourself and then your community. Good is good even if no one is doing it.

May we not fall prey to traps not meant for us. Ameen.

 

 

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