Kirikiri Poem by David Oluwatobi Akinola

Kirikiri is not a food,
But whoever consumes it, even a morsel, testifies it was prepared with the flames of hell; and,
Some fall ill during or after taking kirikiri.

Kirikiri is not a drink,
But whoever drinks it, even a little, testifies it’s as thick and as hot as larva.

Kirikiri is neither a tunnel nor a well,
But whoever enters comes out thin; and,
Some come out lifeless.

Kirikiri is not a school,
But it must be part of the CV of whoever graduates from it.

Kirikiri is a place:
A place where age has nothing to do with respect
A place where anything can be a batten
A place where anyone unfortunate can be battered
A place where anyone unfortunate can be murdered
A place where no one mourns the death of another

A place of devastation
A place where suicide is usual

A place no one would wish to go
A place where robbers, killers and others live

A place filled to capacity
A place where six fill a room of four

A place characterised by hunger
A place where ten can share a stick of cigarette

A place of suffering
A place where visible and invisible wounds are inflicted

A place of torture and pain
A place where the rich, strong and mighty fall to their knees and cry

A place where perseverance could provide sustenance,
Otherwise, it's demise.

Kirikiri is a place of confinement;
Kirikiri is not purgatory,
Kirikiri is a penitentiary.