By Abdullahi O. Haruna Haruspice
Dear Mariam Sanda,
I write you this short epistle not in sympathy of your gruesome act but to grief with you on the death of your beautiful dreams. Like the traffic light, your movement is now halted with the unchanged sign of red! Even after the judgment of men, you would be stuck for a long time with the guilt of life and the stains of your action. I weep for your toils before now, all the projections to be the best shattered on the wing of poor judgement.
The worst hit of your self inflicted tragedy is your daughter. She has from this moment become a reference of scorn. She is now the daughter of the mother who killed her father. What is more devastating than this for this innocent toddler. Just like you, she is now an inmate of the house built for you by the law. It breaks my heart that this baby will celebrate her first birthday in confinement. Unless the snail can be separated from it’s shell, that girl is intricately connected to you in days to come. When I think of this, I feel no anger for you but pity. Indeed we are the diggers of our own catharsis. Mariam, you have done grave damage to this little girl.
Mariam, you have dimmed your shinning light with the charcoal of anger. The world calls you the black widow because you removed the veil of honor from your beautiful face to wear the mask of shame. I grieved in pains when I saw you cover your beauty yesterday. You used your hand to veil your pretty face because your face now cause you scorn and shame. This is what human weakness can cause.
Like my sisters, like my wife and like my mother, I feel for your self debasement. You would have been any of my affinity. My pains is not just for you but for other women. It kills me to see the woman’s pride brought to naught.
The world is against you and it is justifiable , only a soulless mind won’t fret over your inaction. You killed a breath and ended a walk. Your punishment is death but because I am not the law, I can do nothing but grief with you on your self infested tragedy. The deed has been done and you are now left with the burden of itchy anger.
As you carry this heavy burden of woes, I will do my best as a brother to pray for the ease of your burden. No one can help with your burden, like the stick insect, you will walk the long distance of your fury until mercy beckons.
At the court yesterday, you towed the way of deceit by acting the script of more evil. You branded the Qur’an instead of your remorsefulness. A wailing you would have touched the heart of nature than your watery gimmicks of branding the holy book. Coming to court all veiled is a demonstration of hardheart. The tears is therapy for the anguished heart – the world would have grieved with if you had come out plain and deflated.
Forgiveness is divine while appeasement is to human. While we ask for God’s mercy for you, it is your responsibility to beg humans for understanding.
– Haruspice is the publisher/editor-in-chief, World Entourage Magazine