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Two women searching for edible fish in the the oil-swamped region of the Niger Delta

Why I Can’t Go Back To My Shithole Country

Now more than ever, I’m acutely aware of of how and why my ancestral wealth was willfully stolen by the razor-sharp clutches of White supremacy through the age-old weaponry of Christianity, that British invaders righteously brandished, for the ultimate goal of rendering their victims forever hijacked by the betrayal of a White Jesus.

President Trump loves to throw around the words “invasion” and “invaders,” when describing the “criminal” Brown migrants that are currently being used as guinea pigs for a much larger operation that will negatively affect legal immigrants in America.

But clearly, our Thug-in-Chief doesn’t do much reading because if he bothered to pick up a book like his more studious predecessors were prone to do, he would recognize how absolutely ridiculous he sounds when he attempts to demonize populations that haven’t experienced the history of violently attacking unsuspecting territories, with the intent to deface cultures for the gain of organically rich resources.

The original invaders are White people.

Black and Brown people aren’t capable of “invading” super powers in the Westernized zones, because we are clearly incapacitated by the crimes against humanity.

White terrorists terrorized us into receiving the blood of Jesus, in exchange for the falsehood of “enlightenment” and the disorganized separation of cultures that resulted in notable civil discord. The Biafran War, almost killed my mother and her younger siblings, who were trapped in Eastern Nigeria, while my grandfather was finishing up his law degree in abroad.

White terrorism has become the ordained method of expressing the horrific events that are transpiring, as young White males, armed with high-powered rifles, dutifully act out their supreme leader’s directives.

But we can also apply those acts of terror to the White terrorists that invaded my homeland, without permission, and with the audacity to assume validity while missing documentation like traveling visas, passports, or any of the official paperwork, that typically serves as proof that admittance will be granted.

The White invaders, posing as missionaries, were quite certain that the currency of their Whiteness would be enough to convince the targeted brutes that their unwarranted presence was necessary because of the “humanitarian” themes that were attached for good measure.

Nigeria isn’t the only country that was invaded by White supremacy and left for dead.

The British invaders managed to not only steal our most valuable gems and store them in art houses without the promise of returning them back to the originators, but they conspired with the peoples of Northern Nigerian, to guarantee uninterrupted access to the centers harboring precious cargo.

This created divisiveness that caused the Nigerian Civil War that lasted for three years. As mentioned earlier, my mother and her relatives were witness to the devastation and when she recalls the harrowing ordeal that almost killed her, there are goosebumps that form as I internalize the testimony of how she narrowly survived the unfathomable.

The Biafran war (1967–1970), was initiated by a military officer and politician, Colonel Chukwuemeka “Emeka” Odumegwu-Ojukwu, who “served as the military governor of the Eastern Region of Nigeria in 1966 before becoming the leader of the breakaway Republic of Biafra.

Ojukwu’s vision for The Republic of Biafra, was borne out of the desperation that left Igbo people stranded in an arrangement that didn’t consider their ability to thrive progressively, due to the debris of colonialism, that greatly hampered the forecast for displaced tribes, that were eradicated from perfectly secure hubs of advancement.

The British weren’t able to charm the Igbo people out of their birthright, and this is documented in the works of esteemed literary giant, Chinua Achebe, who is best known for treasures like Things Fall Apart, Arrow of God and No Longer at Ease. Commonly referred to as the “African Trilogy,” they are notable for Achebe’s endearing illustration of the high tensions between the colonizers and native rulers, who fought valiantly to preserve what wasn’t for sale.

And this rebelliousness that was driven by pride and celebrated obstinance, gave the Igbo people the specialized structure that set them apart from the other main tribes. But the White invaders were reckless in their mission to carve out territories shaped with canals that would seamlessly lead to the gallons of oil, waiting to be shipped to the United Kingdom and beyond.

The White invaders found it easier to form alliances with the Northerners because of how amiable the Emirs were due to their particular version of communities that differed greatly from the Easterners.

It all came down to tribal warfare; an inevitable path to a lifetime of destruction that was instituted by the evils of colonialism, stemming from the gluttonous tendencies of White men in uniform, who were determined to take ownership for the luxuries that would apparently rot in the hands of those who were born to be royalty.

It has been recorded that the White invaders never took into account how their disastrous actions would lead to systemized chaos, or maybe they were aware, but didn’t give a damn.

Either way, the nefariousness behind those fateful decisions “did not account for the great difference in the cultures and religions of the peoples in each area. [And so] competition for political and economic power exacerbated tensions.”

And while Nigeria has managed to reject the temptation to indulge in another civil war, based on the previous nightmare that ended badly, and how the British chose to support the soldiers that were fighting for a non-existent cohesiveness that the Republic of Biafra hoped to secure independently without inference— the residue of splattered dreams and aspirations, continues to keep my “shithole” — enslaved.

So of course it’s ironic and utterly vile to be feted to this grim period of unrest, that features a regime in the country of my birth, that’s motivated by the rulebook of White nationalism, that dictates the mandate of ethnic cleansing, through the implementation of legislative weaponry, that aims to enhance the survivability of White America.

We’ve already been aware of the damning roll backs that this toxic administration has been instituting since the White House became the dungeon of horror, and they include everything from environmental laws that are meant to protect endangered species, to increasing the acute danger that vulnerable communities like the LGBTQ are likely to face without the required shield that was supposed to be permanent for humane reasons.

And now we’re greeted with more nauseating narratives amid the ICE raids that are now being split into avenues leading to the doorsteps of legal immigrants, who had it coming the moment Donald Trump rudely referred to third world countries as “shitholes,” while praising Norway for producing the perfect specimens that he prays will stray over to the U.S., for the sake of #MAGA.

As a Nigerian-American, who is caught in the blinding rays of “The Twilight Zone,” there’s an unnerving feeling of acceptance that hits when I realize that I can’t return to my shithole country.

During the holiday season, a friend of the family unexpectedly lost her father, and tried in vain to utilize her travel visa from Lagos to Los Angeles. She was blind-sided by the updated policies that restricted her entry and forced her to miss the privilege of attending a life event with her mother and siblings.

This is just one example of how Black and Brown visitors are being barred from the shores of Trump’s America, on the basis of skin color and the ethnicity that can’t be allowed to soil the sanctity of White power.

And that makes this latest blasphemous act, confirmed by the acting director of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, Ken Cuccinelli, who happens to be Irish-Italian with roots that began at Ellis Island — that much more venomous when you consider the audacity of this upgraded season of “poor shaming,” that reduces legal immigrants to criminal status for daring to seek public assistance in this stormy economy.

We’ve been besieged with nonstop trumpeting about the good fortune of the American worker, but the falsities are still transparent to job seekers who have to contend with temp assignment that don’t pay well, and lack the benefits package that most companies no longer want to offer.

And the population actively participating in the workforce are less than thrilled by the stagnancy that denies them raises, bonuses or the trajectory that awards a job well done. And so it has become standard to juggle a handful of gigs — just to barely stay afloat.

This reality isn’t factored into the decision-making process of White people in positions of power, who are drunk off of the hateful rhetoric spewed out of their supreme leader, that echoes the devilish tones of misguided evangelism, that erects the supremacy that can lawfully punish the oppressed for relying on public benefits by evilly denying them green cards.

Cuccinelli has been trending for over a week because of his stark cruelty highlighted in the words that escaped his foul mouth when he casually re-worked the symbolic poetry of Emma Lazarus, whose moving tribute titled The New Colossus, is thankfully embedded at the base of The Statue of Liberty — for all eternity.

“Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, / I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

It seems that Cuccinelli and cowardly Republicans, under the guidance of their Racist-in-Chief, have mapped out the designated criminality that will greatly reduce the number of non-White contenders, who deserve the opportunity to fight for the American Dream. Especially since their “shitholes” were ordained by the never-changing agenda of White invaders, who are still enjoying the amenities that are serviced by the resources that were brutally uprooted

This is the new and uncivil version that shamefully destroys the magnificent and patriotic original in ways that evoke the old adage of how Black and Brown citizens are too damn lazy to overcome the societal structures that were built to forever activate the nerves of inequality.

“Give me your tired and your poor — who can stand on their own two feet and who will not become a public charge.”

What an assholish move by an administration that revels in the power that directs the imprisonment of migrant babies in damp cages, while their parents are shuttled about like cattle. And of course the raid across the nation that snatch away fathers from sobbing children, who are being assaulted by the tendons of White supremacy, that has been freed from the shackles of behind-the-scenes demonstrations.

There are many who share my dilemma of not being able to escape America’s heartrending era of Armageddon, because of how White invaders created the holes of shit that can’t graduate from the level of “developing countries,” due to how Whiteness attacked Blackness with the molded scars that won’t ever heal.

The race wars have been initiated, and to be quite frank, the upcoming elections in 2020 won’t save us from the catastrophic days ahead.

I’ve been honest about the specifications of the candidate who hope to defeat Donald Trump, and how race and equality are the main ingredients that can’t be substituted with watered-down options that don’t measure up to the ammunition that’s currently grazing the future of expendables.

My legacy is a double-edged sword; as the vengeful Nigerian, and victimized American, with Nigerian relatives who want to be rescued but have to remain in bondage because the Whiteness that destroyed them once before, is back to exact more trauma.

It’s all bullshit.

In the meantime, White supremacists who plan on Making America White Again, are succeeding in making this country the priciest shithole on the market.

Guess that makes everything basically, shit.

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say!

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