(In celebration of Workers’ Day, I wrote this poem, inspired by Barr. Femi Falana’s (SAN) speech at the 70th birthday of Comrade Dr. Osagie Obayuwana).

They said:
“Relax, Baba, your sweat is safe!”
They took our blood,
bottled it in bonds,
then drank it
in Senate meetings.

They said:
“Retire with pride!”
and handed us
empty envelopes,
tea without sugar,
life without teeth.

We
who built the bridges,
welded the rails,
typed the memos,
marked the scripts,
saluted flags
and swallowed insults
now wait in lines
longer than our CVs
for a payment
already flown to Swiss

Yes—Swiss!
To buy chairs
for ministers’ buttocks,
to host weddings
in Dubai heat,
to fund jamborees
with UN jackets!

Ah! Baba Pension Fund,
see what your children have done:
They borrow your bones
to build castles in deficit!
They lock your future
in government vaults
then forget the password!

Oga Accountant-General
is in London.
His mother is in Canada.
Your pension?
Still pending…
Still processing…
Still ‘under consideration’…
like your obituary.

Mama Civil Service
now sells herbs in Oshodi.
She who once ran three ministries
now runs from landlord
to landlord.

They call us “senior citizens”
but treat us like
senile leftovers!

Let them hear this:
One day,
a man will cough blood
at the pension office,
and it won’t be tuberculosis.

One day,
a receipt will rise
from the grave of a teacher
signed, dated,
demanding arrears!

One day,
a cough
from a dying pensioner
will scatter
ten budget meetings.

Because…
a country that borrows
from the bones
of its elders
is not building a future
but chewing
its own skull.