Since the events of October 20, I’veI’ve been enveloped in a series of emotions, some which I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling. Right now, I’m not sure I feel anything, which is to say, I feel numb.
Numbness is normal. Sometimes.
In the last few weeks, I had started my days normally; posted, tweeted and retweeted about #EndSARS, scoffed at the insensitivity of the curfew, laughed when my kid brother’s friend showed me his fitness tracker after having to walk for miles on end – 25,000 steps on the protest grounds. On that fateful day, I was locked away in a game between Manchester and PSG. I stopped during half-time to check my phone, that was when I saw the news that changed everything.
When did civil disobedience warrant a death sentence?
I couldn’t think or process. I couldn’t do *shit. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to be here because being here meant having to deal at one point or the other. I didn’t want any of that. I’d never borrowed trauma to a point where I ended up owning it. That was new to me.
But I had to deal.
I couldn’t run away from it. And even if I did, there were people around me who needed me in one way or the other – just as much as I needed them. I realised that how I felt couldn’t be ignored the way our government tried to act like nothing happened. Whether I liked it or not, this was something I had to face.
See, pain can be quite private, and it’s easy to forget you are not alone. I think we can uphold each other and experience trauma collectively, the same way we collectively protested police brutality. Even though I wanted to disappear, I reached out to my friends, vented to no end and it helped. Days later, I started going on walks/runs. Physical activity helps us process emotional weight. While I’m not back to ”normal” yet, I’ll say the exercise has brought some progress. It’s likely I’ll be even better by the time you read this. Or not. But I guess that’s okay.
In all of this, I also had to deal with a key question: Did we lose? I think not.
We can’t deny that the #endsars protests led to a shift that cannot be retracted. Still, a part of me felt like hope was lost. But you see, the irony is that hope is a gentle and unyielding thing. Though it seems to take a backseat sometimes, it usually springs back.
Still, where does this leave us?
Will ’embracing normalcy,’ whatever that means, amount to a betrayal of our collective sacrifice? I pondered this bit for days before stumbling on an Instagram comment that I think is worth sharing.
“If you stop, you’ll be stampeded. If you ‘move on’ and leave what happened behind you, you do it a disservice. But move, you must. So, move – but take it with you… Every step you take. It’s not just about what you do going forward… It’s the context you give to it. Even breakfast is probably different for you now because of what happened. But breakfast must be had… Or strength will fail. So, keep that metaphorical shell casing in your pocket… Something to remember this moment by. But you have to move on… without moving on. Standing still is defeat. Carry on – just not ‘as you were.’ And whatever you do… don’t let your feet stop.” – @attaotigba
I think this sums it up.
