Tell my sisters at home
To cherish their home
My skin was no more at ease
My heart was in a land foreign
I had replaced tricycles for trains
And bridges for tunnels
My eyes was sickened by this same old
My nostrils begged for fresh air
I would no longer mentally mediate Ade’s quarrels with his new wife
I would be far gone, starting up my new life
I couldn’t help those screaming strangers turning to barbecue
But I could help a dreaming daughter get off the queue.
My plan was simple.
I would tell no one of my plans.
Call the number, I did
Understand this, I didn’t.
I resisted
I wasn’t interested, I insisted
I was promised a first class flight
Not a truck this tight
From as young as can have a period,
Fifty more girls we were
The wheels spun and spun
And spun and spun.
As confetti to an aisle
Were corpses to the desert
I broke up with Hope
And settled for Fear
He was a better lover
I could feel him here
He touched my heart and
Held me by my waist
But I wasn’t special
He touched the other girls too.
The tyres spun and spun
Till I wished to die
And begged to live
This act of mine
I won’t forgive
We spun and spun,
Till the spinning seized
We had left the comfort of the land
To the cold of the seas
Some were snack to the life underwater
Others buddies with a disease.
Alas!
We arrived
We heard tongues unfamiliar
It was a place called Libya
I woke up to a dream
This couldn’t be true
It was a strange market
I was on sale too
Did I embark on a journey
To serve men most horny?
To be injected daily
Between my thighs
With syringes long today,
Short the next
Slim today,
Thick the next?
Some praised the ‘doctors’
They had booked the appointment
But I was hale and hearty
I desired no treatment
How did I get here?
How could this be?
Damn! She was good!
She ministered to my soul
She flowed with the rhythm of a lead singer
And I took it in hook line and sinker
Here I lay, helpless
Some strong, sick and breathless
It is a jungle out here
Survive if you dare
There is no comfort here
There is no one by that name
Don’t seek freedom too
He never came this way
How dare you speak of hope?
She was murdered long ago!
Pain is all we know
He said he’ll never let us go
Let my tears drop into the earth
And plant the seed of a message
Let my screams go into the sky
Let my sisters hear why
Traffickers have no age,
Traffickers have no gender
Traffickers have a goal
They have an agenda
Beware of strangers making promises
Strangers can’t deliver
Tell my family of my regret
I only wanted better
Tell my nation to save us
At home and from this gutter
Do they not hear?
Why do they still come here?
Show them this
And hold them by the ear
Tell my sisters at home
To cherish their home
If silence is golden,
Freedom is a gold mine.
If I live to leave,
May I behold mine.
My skin is no more at ease
I crave a land familiar
Written by Aneta Chinsell – an OAP, Poet and Spoken Word Artist.
Quite an invaluable piece. keep it up.
This is very rampant today in our society, and our govt keeps neglecting, thanks dear for reiterating..Team#StopTrafficking#..
This is incredible
Things girls go through, we need more of this to create awareness and let people know the dangers that awaits them when a man starts telling them about good life on the other side… ??
Amazing and beautiful piece…
If you follow the news, from burnt kids for stealing to unending reports on illegal migration of Nigerians, this piece not only elaborates intimate delatails of the issue and concerns of these kids. How you envisioned their minds to write this is beyond me. Marvelous work
A word is enough for the wise both for the ladies and gentlemen.More grace to your elbow Aneta Chinsell
Wow. So touching. Thank you for this.
Wow. This is touching. Thank you for this. They need to know this.
Nice Piece. The fight for a better tomorrow and greener pastures coupled with too much pressure from ambitious parents have sent our girls on journey’s only few have returned to tell the the adventure.
God!!! This is deep
Aneta I love what you are doing
You have been doing stuffs from time to time…
Thanks for speaking through creativity for those under the bondage of traffickers
Trust me our voice would be heard one day….
Good work addressing a social ill in your own way.
awesome piece
This might be coming late, but this is a brilliant piece. ?