Exactly three weeks ago today, one of our own was gunned down by a military personnel. Our city went up in cries for justice and our government promised us that.
We were supposed to go on a march but were dissuaded by our youth leaders who said they’ll see it to the end.
Our boy was buried, and two weeks later, time has blown over him, like it does all other victims caught in the fire of oppression. And we have slowly returned to what we call normal, until another one of us is caught in these fires again, and then we come out and shout, like it’s something new.
The hash tags are disappearing, the voices grow quieter, the profile pictures are slowly being removed, and justice being swept under the carpet.
I am just a voice who speaks alone, I didn’t know this boy but I feel a sense of pain, think of what his family is going through. He didn’t deserve to go out this way…maybe our participation was clout chasing as some called it, maybe it was genuine, we will never know. But take this, if we keep silent over this, as we have over the rest that have gone, God bless their souls, there will be no end to this. I speak as a youth who has life ahead of him, just like Rinji did, and who might be the next person to get shot tomorrow.
I see the way we go about these and, if I die this way, and this is all that will be done for me, I’d have preferred everyone pretend I didn’t exist… It’s not worth it…
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