14.20. - by Favyyy

INTERVIEWER: Hello everyone, and welcome to this once in a millennium space where we hang our nations' bloody flags out to dry. I'm your good friend and host, I, and here with me today are two phenomenal young women. Please introduce yourselves, ladies, and tell us why you're here today. 14: I'm 14, it's October 20, 2020, and I know you want to ask me some questions. 20: I'm 20, it's October 20, 2026, and I'm here for an interview about a tragic incident that happened six years ago today. I: What do you remember about <a class="tc-blue external-link" href="https://twocents.space/insights/tag/endsars" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#EndSARS</a>? 14: I remember that people were dying and we had to stay indoors. 20: Is that all? 14: What else was I supposed to remember? I was fourteen. I: And now that you're older, 20, what do you remember? 20: I remember that people were asking for things they shouldn't have had to beg for. I remember that the protests were met with violence. I remember that six years have passed since then. 14: You remember all that now. But you didn't know any of it then. So why do you sound like you were there? I: A fair question. 20, were you there? 20: No. I: Then what gives you the right to speak about it? 20: Does not being there mean I have no right to ask what happened? Or what happened afterwards? I: We'll get to that. What did you know at fourteen? 20: I knew my friends and I couldn't see each other. I knew every adult around us had strong opinions about what was happening. Some supported the protesters; others believed their actions were futile. 14: Really? That's all you took away? 20: What else was I supposed to? I was fourteen! 14: Exactly! The same age I am now. You really don't think there's a difference between remembering and living? I: Okay, 14. What's your takeaway? 14: Nothing. 20: I beg your pardon? 14: What? I know people are dying. I know everyone's scared. I am too. But I don't understand why this is happening or how I'm supposed to feel. Am I supposed to be angry? Sad? Should I be outside protesting, praying, or just sitting at home waiting for it to be over? 20: You could be trying to understand what is happening. 14: And you did? 20: ... I: Oh, that's interesting. 20: Please don't do that. I: Don't do what? 20: Whatever you're about to do with that silence. You're going to make it mean something. I: Does it mean nothing? 20: I don't know. 14: Neither do I. I: Well, perhaps we should move on. 20: That's convenient. You ask us questions, and the moment we don't have an answer, you move on. I: It's an interview, 20. Not a war. 20: Maybe you should stop asking so many impossible questions. I: Fair enough. Six years have passed. What has changed? 20: I'm older. I: I'm going to need a little more than that. 20: I know. I just thought I'd start with the obvious. 14: You look tired. 20: Thank you. 14: No, seriously. 20: Well, you look fourteen. 14: I am fourteen. 20: Exactly. I: Ladies, please. We have an audience. 20: You brought two versions of the same person here and you expect them to get along? I: I expected them to answer questions. 14: Then perhaps you should have invited someone else, because clearly this one has lost her way. 20: And this one is on the verge of losing her mind if she thinks growing up comes with answers. I: Let's get serious. What has Nigeria learnt? 20: I don't know. I: What has changed? 20: I don't know. 14: You don't know a lot of things for someone who's six years older than me. 20: You have no idea what it's been like. 14: explain it to me then!!! 20: I can't. I don't even have it figured out myself. 14: So what's the point of growing up? 20: I guess you'll learn that growing up and figuring things out aren't the same thing. I: And there it is. Six years later, and our guest has discovered that adulthood is a scam. 20: Is that supposed to be a joke? I: It's an interview, I'm trying to keep things moving. Why are we here today? 20: Because it's October 20. I: And what happens on October 20? 20: People remember. I: And tomorrow? 20: Tomorrow is October 21. 14: I don't understand. If something terrible happens, and everyone agrees that it was terrible, and we talk about how terrible it was, why does it have to keep happening? 20: You're asking why remembering something doesn't automatically stop it from happening again. 14: Isn't that the point of remembering? 20: I suppose. 14: You suppose? 20: What do you want me to say? That if we post enough pictures, write enough tributes, and use the right hashtags, nobody will ever have to go through it again? 14: I didn't say all that. 20: I know. I'm angry that I don't know what remembering is supposed to accomplish. I: Do you think Nigerians have forgotten <a class="tc-blue" href="https://twocents.space/insights/tag/endsars">#EndSARS</a>? 20: I think people remember it differently. Some remember being there. Some remember losing people. Some remember being afraid. Some remember watching from their homes. Some remember the arguments. Some remember the hashtags. Some remember very little. I: And some remember nothing? 20: Some people were too young to understand what was happening. Others have their own battles to fight. I don't think everyone who remembers differently has forgotten. 14: So you're not angry with me anymore? 20: I was never angry with you. 14: You said I should have tried to understand. 20: You should have. 14: But I was fourteen. 20: I know. 14: You keep saying that like it changes everything. 20: Perhaps it changes what I expect from you. I: And what do you expect from yourself? 20: I know people were asking for an end to police brutality. I know people went out to protest. I know people were killed. And I know that six years later, we're still having conversations about what happened. I: Is that enough? 20: No. I: Then what would be enough? 20: Justice, accountability, answers, consequences,...all the things people have been asking for. I: And when those things happen, will you be satisfied? 20: I can't answer for everyone. I: I'm asking you. 20: I don't know. I: You're twenty. Surely you know what you want from your country. 20: I want to live in a country where being young doesn't mean being disposable. I want to be able to trust the people who are supposed to protect me. I: And do you? 20: ... I: One last question for both of you. What would you tell the next fourteen-year-old who finds herself in a similar situation? 14: I'd tell her to stay safe. 20: I'd tell her to ask questions. 14: Even if she's scared? 20: Especially when she's scared 14: What if the answers don't change anything? 20: ... I: 20? 20: I don't know. 14: It's okay. I don't think anyone does. I: Well, that's all the time we have for today. Thank you to both our guests for joining us. And to everyone watching, thank you for joining us on this very special occasion. We hope you've learnt something, questioned something, remembered something, or at the very least, enjoyed the show. Until next time, stay safe, stay informed, and keep those flags dry. Goodnight, Nigeria.

Other insights from Favyyy

Contributor Points

Points-to-Coupons

Referral Earning