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AMIDST FIREARMS
<p>AMIDST FIREARMS</p><p>By: J.A Bakare [Unique]</p><p><br/></p><p>The chalkboards had not been touched in months. Dust collected on them like a calendar no one wanted to flip.</p><p><br/></p><p>For weeks, the students had lived in limbo. Classroom were locked. Fees were due. Academic calendar kept extending . The strike that was supposed to be “temporary” had become a way of life.</p><p><br/></p><p>On that fateful Monday morning when noise emerged and students gathered at the main gate. Not with stones, but with placards. Not with chorus of anger, but with calm songs that sounded more like prayer. “We want to write exam.” “Education is our right.” “End the strike.”</p><p><br/></p><p>They were tired— not of school, but of waiting. Tired of academic backsliding like a serial sinner, noting that; their peers in private universities move ahead while they counted months lost to negotiations they had no seat at.</p><p><br/></p><p>The protest was peaceful. For the first hour.</p><p><br/></p><p>Then the sirens came.</p><p><br/></p><p>Vehicles rolled in. Uniforms. Boots. And rifles.</p><p>What began as a conversation between students and the state became something else entirely.</p><p><br/></p><p>Gunshots everywhere- what a teasing Thursday? A live kungfu display that no man dares to predict its aftermaths. </p><p><br/></p><p>The students of AAUA were not asking for luxury. They were asking for consistency. For a calendar that means something. For the dignity of finishing what they started.</p><p><br/></p><p>A university is not just buildings. It is a contract — between government, management, lecturers, and students which if eventually show up, the future will show up too. When that contract breaks, frustration will find a voice. And when that voice is met with firearms, we all lose.</p><p><br/></p><p>“A nation that fears its students’ voice will one day fear its own future. The guns were loud. But the reason for the protest was louder.”</p>
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