Femi Fani-Kayode: They love the blood
I just watched a horrific video of hundreds of young men in the traditional orange prison garb.
They were in shining new handcuffs and their eyes were filled with the darkness of hopelessness, helplessness and sheer terror.
They reminded me of sallah rams and christmas turkeys just before the slaughter.
Their bodies were hung upside down on a butchers meat-hook whilst their throats were slowly slit wide open with a sharp long knife and their blood drained into a metal gutter by a group of jihadist terrorists.
I was badly traumatised and pained as I witnessed the life flow out of them and heard the bloodcurdling screams, the frightful moans and groans and their pitiful and child-like begging as the blood streamed down their bodies in gallons and fed the waiting gutter.
After that came the powerful water hose, like those that are used in a modern abbatoir, to wash away the blood and clean up and drain the metal gutter.
The whole thing was cold, clinical and barbaric and it made my heart beat ten times faster.
These were not animals that were being butchered and diced like Chinese fried pork but human beings, each of whom had their own dreams, hopes, aspirations and loved ones.
It was worse than a horror movie: it was today’s harsh reality.
That sight and those sounds will never leave me. They are a living and undeniable testimony of man’s inhumanity to man.
They are incontrovertible and irrefutable evidence of the fact that, as the Holy Bible says, “the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel”.
That pain conjured up a living force in me and inspired and moved me to write the following words.
I struggled desperately to get into the minds of the barbarous beasts that have dedicated their lives to the devil and that commit such heinous and mind-boggling crimes with such passion and ease.
They reminded me of those in our own nation that share a similar disposition and that are given to shedding innocent blood at the drop of a hat either in the name of their god or for the sake of their cows.
What I discerned and saw and what came to my spirit was as follows.
They love the blood. The blood is life. The blood is sweet. They love to see it flow. They love to see it sprinkled. They love to see it spattered all over the walls. They love its smell and its warmth.
They love it even more when it is the blood of infants and babies. They thirst for it. They yearn for it. They cry for it. They lust for it. They crave for it. They kill for it. They love the blood.
They love sharp knives and cutlasses. They love violence and aggression. They love tribulation and turmoil. They love tears and hardship.