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Your vote, your voice

Hey slay queen. Yes, you— the one with a power bank, Ngara leggings, 12 layers of make-up, blonde weave, 1223 unreplied messages and several undone school units. I know in your genetical make-up; your factory setting is to blue-tick anyone whose pockets are not deep enough to sponsor your glamorous life and renew your weave every three weeks.

However, if I may just borrow your time, it is prudent that you listen to my gospel. I wish to explain to you that there are other things in life that matter other than clubbing, Instagram, blue ticks and Guarana. As the memo said, school was closed so that you all go home and participate in the General Elections. It did not include a clause that said, “Go ye and find thyself a sponsor”.

I am pretty sure, there also wasn’t a part where you were asked to participate in all night-time escapades in the city while lying to parents that you’re still held up with school projects. Classes were deferred to give you a chance to do your civic duty as a citizen not your pre-matrimonial internship as a slay queen!

You are no longer a child. Life has played you; you’re an adult. And part of the drawbacks of ‘adulting’ (well, besides adultery), is acting like an adult and taking responsibility. Y’all need to start taking life and the future seriously.

You cannot go around whining that you will not vote because you will get tired queueing all day. My sister, where do you get the energy to jig and wiggle all night in clubs? If you can shake hips like Shakira all night just for cans of Guarana and some sheesha, then you also have the energy to stand for a few hours for five years of good leadership!

Your sponsor may not be on the ballot, but your life is. (Cue Obama’s voice): Your damn future is on the ballot! Let not the masses make a decision for you. Go home and vote. Leave the escapades of the city. Civil duties did not end at the part where you registered as a voter earlier in the year just because there was a dab challenge at voter registration centres.

This is not a class where you will attend a make-up class if you miss one. This is a once-in-five-years thing. So comrade, if you wish to slay, forget the clubs and tots. Go slay in polling stations tomorrow!

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