When I heard of the bomb blast at Nyanya bus park, my mind flashed back to a scene that was all too familiar to me. The 14th of April another Monday morning, people dressed in different colours hurrying to catch the next bus before it leaves, I can imagine the already sweaty barrow pushers packing goods too much for a common barrow to carry, pushing through the crowd and into the near by market... It was always a hassle for people trying to go to work, some young looking for jobs and probably hurrying up for that interview that they believed so strongly will give them their big break, some middle aged trying not to miss an appointment just so they can keep their jobs, and others old trying to keep up with the struggle and make it out of there to the important appointments old people have. I can picture the line up of cars moving slowly in a straight line trying to make it into town as fast as possible, some happy, some sad, some with family, some without, I can imagine a lady trying to get her two kids to school before 7:30am and the traffic jam was such an uncalled for delay. The hunking of horns by impatient men and women trying to shunt their way through moving cars would have rent the air in a combination of smoke and exhaust fumes. Then all of a sudden, a huge explosion! People screaming, others observing in shock as dead body after dead body surfaces with every slight clearing of smoke from the air. Some are injured, others badly injured, I can imagine people crying hurt and confused. At that very moment, every single thing was divided into the time before and the time after, the time of so much life was immediately turned into a time of death and pain. The time of normal living was immediately turned into a time of sober reflection and for so many it was rather too late. Just the mere thought of this sends shivers down my spine and then it happens again, same place, different time on the 1st of May, tens or probably hundreds of people lost their lives in yet another bomb blast. My heart cries at the reminder of this and then I think of the lords heart too and I realise, Something is really wrong! How can there be a company of people born to set things right in the earth and yet things as ghastly as this. These things are happening under our very noses and in our country. Let's not be basic, the Nigerian crisis is your crisis its my crisis. We need to go beyond the mediocre mindset of "This nigeria na wa o"... And moving on as though it dosent concern us. The average believer is comfortable and grateful to God as long as the insurgencies don't get to him/her... But how close is close enough to home? How hurt can you be for the suffering, pain and death of a total stranger? That person laying in the rubbish dead could have been a soul waiting to be saved. We need to realise that every burden of the people we were reconciled to reconcile is also our burden. Let's not be insensitive, let's pray for Nigeria. #OnlyPrayerCanHealUs.
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