Reflecting on the senseless killings within our borders and elsewhere
Look at the ongoing attention the Christchurch mosque shooting in New Zealand is receiving from Media houses from around the world. This includes the Nigeria media and Nigerians. Even Nigerians living in Kaduna state, Nigerians that have not said a word in public in the face of the pointless killings going on in parts of the state have rightly joined in condemning the mass murder of Muslims at a mosque in New Zealand.
Why does the media not report the more frequent massacres going on here in Nigeria with similar fervency? Different factors converge here, and it looks to me, sadly, that in part, the world is now used to people being senselessly killed in Nigeria. So much that most media outlets feel there is no sensation left in reporting these atrocities. See, generally, media outlets live on, inhale and exhale sensation. For most of them: no sensation, no reportage. And this is not a comforting idea by any means.
It is a troubling thought that atrocities of the scale going on here in Nigeria can become 'normal' - in the 21st century. How did we get here? Whatever you think, remember: anyone who loses a family member in the ongoing mayhem in parts of Northern Nigeria does not feel any less pain simply because 'so many other people have been killed in such similar previous attacks.'
To the bereaved in Agatu or Kajuru or Du, death is novel, it is pure pain, and many times, it is the beginning of endless darkness. Many of them never recover. The world strolls on. But the bereaved starve for justice, for closure, for family, and often, for food. Some of them will die as ghostly shadows of their former selves. We may get used to it. But how does a 7-year old orphan boy get used it? How does he get used to the traumatizing memory of his dad being brutally dismembered, cut down to taboo chunks of helpless meat, before his otherwise innocent eyes? Tell, in the name of God, how should he get used to it? We may move on, but that heart may never stop bleeding.
The Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps all over the Middle belt and North East Nigeria pulsate with trauma and nightmares of a magnitude hard for most people's imaginations to sustain. Many of the bereaved and victims of the massacre in Northern Nigeria suffer from a genre of emotional and psychological dysfunction that words could never convey. Yet, most of us, and I mean most of those of us who once felt some sting – following news of any such evil episodes – have moved on. We have simply moved on. But, in leaving these sufferers and victims of terror behind, we have left part of our humane humanity behind as well.
Maybe you have visited an IDP camp before. You visited. You were stirred, moved to tears, like I usually am, whenever I visit these camps. Yet, is that enough? Don't you see: you visited, but the victims live there. What made you tear-up is the brutal norm for thousands of innocent human beings. Their offense is either their ethno-religious
Where is the balance? We all cannot continue to grieve with the bereaved at the same intensity as the bereaved, forever. Yet, for the sake of at least our own humanity, how do we continue to participate in the pain of victims and the bereaved, while we live the particular life uniquely set out before us? How do we avoid getting over-familiar with news of genocide within our borders – so that we can continue to be justly, sufficiently horrified and angered every time we receive such news?
I can tell you we have a natural propensity to 'impatience with discomfort.' I mean we are impatient with discomfort – by default. And it has its good uses, but any such good use is not my business here. So let me sketch this propensity like this: You know, when you are ill, the first two days will see you as a sort of sudden, accidental celebrity. You get a lot of attention (calls, visits, gifts, care, etc) from colleagues and friends and family and every category in between. Your boss – if you have (a good) one – could even say: take your time and get well.
But, if you continue to be bed ridden for 6 months, a lot of that initial attention eventually wears off, while you recede to the category of statistics in the minds of many family members and friends, except that you will of course continue to be topical in the hearts of some very close family members. Your office will even take a forensic look at your employment contract to see how to possibly lawfully disengage you. Your health condition may have worsened after those first few days that you got the most attention and concern, but let's face it, who cares? People move on. That, sadly, is what people do.
This is not life, but this is life.
–Rev.Gideon Odoma
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