I hear that voice, I hear her cry, seeking solace, searching for comfort, striving for her life but the bowel of compassion from her who should naturally had responded has run dry. She had turned her face and has shut her ears and he whose semen had given her life has no sense of responsibility.
I drew near to see, perhaps to confirm my suspicion, and lo, it was the voice of a suckling desiring a breast to suckle but her mother nor anyone else was there to satisfy her thirst; probably because she was secretly dropped in that thick wet bush that welcomed her with such unwholesomeness and possibly communicating to her to make her last prayers been indifferent about the very obvious fact that she had never learnt how to say one before now, not having been that privileged.
Then it dawned on me that the mother has forgotten her nursing child and she had shown no compassion on the seed of her womb and the father had denied her, way back before her young eyes were ever greeted by the first sunlight of her life and before she ever inhaled the first 1st air that opened her nostrils to the breath that would give her life all through her sojourn here on earth.
When I beheld this sight, knowing fully that this is just one of the many similar awful and awkward situations of child neglect and abuse that permeates our nation, Africa and the world at large, rivers of water ran down my eyes. As I considered the situation, then I said: ''I will not sit right here and cry along with the child, I will walk down the length and breadth of the city crying with a loud voice, believing that my voice shall be heard'', and it shall not be the voice of judgment but a subtle plea calling to all good-spirited citizens and raising a sense of responsibility in all those concerned, for this I know that;
He may be a slave
Residing in a cave
But if he decides to save
He will be regarded as the brave.
Thus at last to his grave
He goes with honour as an hero.
And now I will say; please, lets save the world, lets SAVE A CHILD.
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