Image by Ayo Akinwade


Olaniyi R. Akindiya AKIRASH

I wake in the depth of night. When I close my eyes, I feel something is blocking my view. I can‘t breathe deep or stand up from my bed. It feels like something is holding me down. I try to turn my head right or left, but it is impossible. I try to scream. I can’t find my voice. I think maybe I am dead, but I still feel that I am breathing. The dead don’t breathe. I start to pray as millions of questions pump up my mind. I ask myself, have I done well in this world? What should I have done better? All the while my bed and pillow turning to a swimming pool of sweat. Then suddenly a breeze blows and everything changes. I become myself again. I wake up. Am in a 6’ x 9’ rectangle with metal rods and a door padlocked. I look to my right someone is standing in another 6’ x 9’, so also on my left. This pattern continues ahead of and behind me. What has happened to me? Have I become an animal in a cage? What day is it? What month, what year? I ask, but the only response I get is tears. Then a voice suddenly says, “You are going back to where you come from. You are being deported.”

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