Monopoly

No group has a monopoly on wisdom

No group has a monopoly on stupidity

or bigotry

or ignorance

or greed

or intolerance

but some do a damned good job

reaping the fruits of oppression….

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Not Good For the Gander! #StoptheKilling #StopBokoHaram

There are videos circulating the internet showing Chadian soldiers and Nigeria soldiers with (suspected / captured) Boko Haram fighters, I refuse to watch these videos but I have Facebook friends who have posted before and after screenshots and the pictures are brutal. Killing combatants during a fire-fight is one thing, but going out of your way to brutally torture and kill a captured enemy is extrajudicial murder. Yes Boko Haram is brutal and they have killed over 13,000  in just Nigeria alone. Yes many of these Boko Haram extremists are willing to die for their cause as evidence from their affinity for suicide bombings and missions. But I refuse to celebrate the torture or death of another human not even a suspected Boko Haram warrior.  More baffling to me is that some of these Boko Haram warriors look like children who should be in school  not actively involved in killing or getting killed. An unanswered question remains how do we stop this cycle of violence of misguided / ignorant / fanatic / militarized / extremist fighters? Our tears are not yet dry from mourning the dead at the hands of Boko Haram. The Chibok girls are still missing so we continue to chant #bringbackourgirls. Boko Haram continues to kill and fight a brutal war against innocent villagers and the numbers of the internally displaced and refugees continues to grow. Boko Haram has to be stopped and it is a brutal war, but in the quest to stop Boko Haram the soldiers should not become worse than them. I fear that based on these videos than it may be too late for some of the soldiers.

Cult/gang proofing our kids

A few parents have been on the news recently because their kids joined ISIL or other cults. The scary part is that the kids were just so regular and so average as were the families and we may be tempted to say it could happen to anyone. But as parents we can fight and prevent it. We can do something, anything and stop our kids from feeling so hopeless and easy prey to these cults. The first step to cult/gang proofing our kids is spending time with them and building up their individuality. They do not need the latest toys or gadgets as much as they need us. We can teach them to revel in their own quirks and let them know that stranger danger includes religious fanatics and gangs. We should tell them the truth about scary topics otherwise they will get their truth elsewhere. We must stop trying to make them fit in with others, celebrate their awkwardness, absurd humor and abstract art and music. We should let them develop their own voice and celebrate each assertive gesture. It’s so easy to blame the environment when we had at least 10 years to cult/gang proof our kids but failed because we were too busy chasing money, career or prestige.

Love is God…

There is a need to wrestle the name of God from the haters. Daily, someone evokes God’s name chanting hate, oozing hate, despising, damning, condemning, others, in the name of God? Their god is hate not love. Their god is not my God. My God is love. Love is my God. Their paradise has no room for love. There is a need to take back the name of God! As a person of faith I must stand up for love and rebuke hate. When I say nothing or do nothing I betray love. My love must exceed and extinguish their hate. My kindness must exceed and extinguish their violence. I will stand up for Love and against hatred, prejudice and bigotry. My God is Love and Love is stronger than hate. My Love is greater than their hate. Hate does not speak for me. Hate cannot speak for me. Marvin Gaye sings it best here please enjoy 

No one cries for me!

No one cries for me, my short life not even worthy of a hashtag or footnote as leaders and future leaders  rally for electoral votes. I am not Charlie,  just a nameless faceless child burned to a crisp and left like trash in the charred remains of my town. No one cries for me, not even the mother who took time to wash my hair and plait it in perfect rows, her burned body lies besides the hundreds of relatives friends and enemies equal in agony and death. No one cries for me, no one cries for us, we remain faceless roasted flesh, unholy sacrifices on the altar of Boko Haram. Cry for me and Baga Nigeria. Raise dirges and ululate for the children kidnapped (or sold) and strapped with bombs, unwilling messengers of death.  Look at my body as you pray and do something, say something, change something. Was my life in vain?

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