THIS IS AN ADAPTATION FROM THE YET-TO-BE-PUBLISHED NOVEL BY AHAOMA KANU
Our almost ten months in the northern towns of Makurdi and Otukpo respectively, saw events happening retrogressively in the country. Just after the second coup of July 1966, which saw Col Gowon, the erstwhile army chief of staff, emerge as the head of state, the then military Governor of the Eastern region, Col.Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, refused to recognize him as the head of state. He argued that Gowon was not the most senior officer in the military council to take over power. It was reasoned that the Northerners arranged the coup to deliberately return power to their region, thereby bypassing the supposedly next in command to the ousted head of State, Gen Ironsi. The supposed officer was a southerner of Western origin. The riots and disturbances which happened in May that year, which claimed the lives of my brother, his wife and close to three thousand Ibos in the northern regions, was hugely carried out due to the North’s clamour for Araba or succession, which was the primary objective of the July 29th coup that brought in Col. Gowon as head of state. The Northerners sole aim was to secede from
Nigeria
. On the first day of August, the new Head of State, Col. Gowon, broadcasted to the whole nation of his strong belief that the country “could no longer honestly and sincerely continue in being a unitary government and have not been able to stand the test of time.” He went further to call for a review of the issues in the country’s national standing and see if his junta could stop the country drifting away into ultimate destruction. That set the stage for the much needed secession of the North from the
Nigeria
entity. It came as a surprise that the Head of State shifted his policy surprisingly from what the North intended doing which was practically to secede from Nigeria to confederation almost immediately after his announcement. Rumours had it that he was talked out of his earlier stance by
Britain
to withhold his declaration of secession. To add credence to his new policy on keeping
Nigeria
as a united country, the Head of State released the political detainees of the January 15th coup and promulgated a decree that rescinded Decree 34, by so doing, restored the regions and the federal systems of government; the same system for which they claimed the Nzeogwu coup was carried out. An Ad hoc Constitutional conference was convened at
Lagos
in month of September which was a welcome relief to the long suffering Easterners. The conference took off with so much optimism but was shattered shortly after the committee went on break to consult with their regions. The massacre of the Ibos started afresh. (This was about the time we were at
Zaria
). The conference ended in a prematurely, without much as addressing the issues for which it was mandated to resolve. Similar conferences were held on regional bases but none came out worthwhile. After the abortive attempts to heal the regional and ethnic differences in the country, the military leaders opted for another conference to be held in
Aburi
,
Ghana
, a neighbouring African state, in January 1967 under the Chairmanship of the leaders of the Ghana National Liberation Council. The Federal Military Government, led by Col. Yakubu Gowon, disagreed with the Eastern Regional Military Government, led by Col. Odumegwu Ojukwu, on the true details of the Aburi accord which ended that same month. The deadlock continued till the end of May when Col. Ojukwu summoned an emergency meeting with the consultative assembly of
Eastern Nigeria
to review the situation. Col Gowon announced nationally, a decree that divided the country into twelve states with three states in the East, six in the North with the West and Mid-West allowed to remain as they were.
Lagos
, the Federal Capital, constituted the twelfth state. The arrangement was not accepted by the Easterners. A simultaneous reaction followed that decree the next day; the Eastern regional consultative Assembly empowered Col. Ojukwu to declare the Eastern region independent of
Nigeria
. The new state was called the
Republic
of
Biafra
. Shortly after the declaration of
Biafra
,
Col.
Gowon announced the dismissal of Col. Ojukwu from the army and also his eventual sack as the military Governor of the Eastern region. He promised to see quickly to the end of the rebellion in the Eastern part of the country using a clinical police action. The stage was set for a war when we entered the newly declared
Republic
of
Biafra
; a lingering feud had metamorphosed into an impending war.
The young
Republic
of
Biafra
was described by many as a child born out of circumstances, bitter circumstances. The man that met us on the way turned out to be a soldier, a Biafran soldier. He was part of the reconnaissance squad of the hurriedly assembled Biafra Army and was on the look out for the Nigerian forces. Not long after he radioed his base, an army Landover truck came to the spot and took us to Nsukka. There were two uniformed soldiers with stern machine guns on board and they wasted no time in taking us away from the road. It was just a sweet relief to be inside a car travelling at that speed. Okechukwu looked weak but was still eager to look out through the windows of the jeep; Ekene was still shivering even though an army blanket was wrapped around him by one of the soldiers. It took us close to an hour before we made our first contact with civilization.
The light on the houses we saw that night gave me great assurance of safety, my happiness know no bounds. All the pains of the past months were all gone at once and a bright new beginning lay ahead. We were first driven to what looked like an Army Quarters due to the heavy presence of soldiers everywhere, all heavily armed. Immediately we arrived, some soldiers came forward to welcome us home.
“Umu Biafra Nnoo” they greeted us again. Ekene was carried by one of the soldiers while I and Okechukwu walked with them upstairs. The soldiers saluted an older officer which I believed was their Commander.
“Look at what they’ve done to these children,” the commander said on seeing us. His office was expansive and looked very military with the picture of the Biafran head of state adoring the office. A soldier was by the side operating some communication gadgets and kept repeating “over and come in” just like the one that met us on the way. After asking me some questions, the commander ordered that they take Ekene and Okechukwu to the Medical Centre at the University. I was asked to follow one of the soldiers for a friendly chat. The friendly chat turned out to be a thorough questioning of all that happened to us from the riots at
Kaduna
till we were found. Their concentration was mainly on what we saw the past few days during our escape. I willingly told them all I could remember, clutching my chaplet and sipping from a chilled bottle of Coke that I was served with. After I was through with the chat, I was driven by a soldier to meet my brothers at the hospital. Ekene was sleeping on one of the beds on drip while Okechukwu slept on another bed. The nurse I was handed over to took me to my bed and showed me the bathroom where a steaming hot bucket of water was waiting. I had never been happy for months. As I took my bath, I scrubbed hard on my body to wash away all the pains, rejection and filth to which my body had passed through and when I laid down on the hospital bed with fresh sheets, I was quite confident that God had forgiven me my sins. I believed he had answered my prayers perhaps, will take us home.
“Wake up dear,” a polite voice called out. I opened my eyes to see the smiling face of the nurse, “I larukwa ofuma?” She asked.
“Good morning,” I greeted and answered her that I slept well. It was really a good thing to be finally where you belonged. The people, the familiar Ibo language, the reassuring looks and hopeful smiles were adorable; it was like having Christmas in June. Okechukwu was already up and looking everywhere. The nurse provided me with a toothbrush and toothpaste to brush with. Those items looked out of way for me and I understood it was due to the many days of chewing stick. Our clothes had been laundered and ironed by the hospital staff and as we sat down to a breakfast of bread and steaming hot chocolate, Okechukwu asked me when Mama was coming to pick us. The Medical Centre was in the
University
of
Biafra
at Nsukka. It was the
University
of
Nigeria
before the declaration and the paint that erased the word
Nigeria
and replaced it with
Biafra
all over the premises were still fresh with the erased word slightly visible. Ekene was still in an unstable condition so had to be admitted. Okechukwu’s swollen feet were not critical enough for him to be given a bed at the clinic. The following days at the clinic were memorable. We saw the Biafran flag; its red black and green colours with a yellow rising sun were very warm. It adored everywhere. I went round the wards with the nurses and saw fellow causalities of the Northern pogrom. The nurse took turns to explain to me how some of them met their misfortune. Many of them in the wards did not have life threatening conditions; the more serious cases were transferred to the University Teaching Hospital at
Enugu
, the Biafran state capital. There was those with arms amputated, some had their mouth slashed open from ear to ear, a woman told of how she was forced to eat her left eye which was gouged with a dagger by some soldiers at Jos. I saw a very pathetic sight of a young girl that was said to have been raped continuously by soldiers who later mutilated her genitals and filled it with sand; she had her waist region on bandage. One of the ladies told of how the soldiers held her down to be raped by lepers at Sabon-Gari area of
Kano
. The nurses kept talking about the headless body of a tall man recovered inside a train that came down from Otukpo. The stories were bizarre, their sights pitiable but their determination to survive was very strong. They all had one thing in common – to live and to live in
Biafra
. The stories that followed the refugees became the grief of the people of
Biafra
who were very bitter and very anxious for vengeance to their once fellow Nigerians. The clamour for war could be smelt everywhere. We spent eleven days at the clinic waiting for Ekene’s health to be restored; he was given so many drugs and injections. The soldier that drove me to the hospital was around to pick us from the clinic the day Ekene was discharged and took us to the University Staff quarters. On our way we saw many students of the institution going about their business. We were welcomed into the house by a girl that took us into the sitting room. Ekene and Okechukwu could not hide their excitement when the small Black and White television was switched on; it had been close to a year we saw a television set not to talk about watching one. We remained in the parlour and watching television and the photo albums on the table and those hanging on the walls. A lady came in later and greeted us happily.
“I am Mrs Okonkwo and will like you to call me Mummy,” she introduced herself. We obliged without delay. The house we were taken to belonged to Dr and Mrs. Okonkwo. They were both lecturers in the university and their children, I later learnt, were studying in
England
. Dr Okonkwo was an engineer and was working closely with the army while his wife was a sociologist and had the task of handling the refugee situation at Nsukka. They took pity in our plight and accepted to adopt us until events settled. The girl that welcomed us was their house help and was called Oge; she was also warm as Mrs. Okonkwo was. The house was a bungalow built in the same pattern as the other houses; it had a sitting room and four bedrooms. We were assigned one room that had a big bed, the feeling of sleeping on a bed, which seemed like a luxury to us, was appealing. Our foster-parents occupied one room while Oge had the third room. The fourth room was always locked but had an occupant, a woman and her baby. I knew this because I often heard the baby cry and also saw Oge constantly washing baby napkins and clothes. Mrs. Okonkwo always entered the room every morning, evening and night. Both she and the secret occupant would be heard talking in low tones. I never allowed that to bother me as I was hoping for the day we will be leaving for Umuahia. The secret occupant remained hidden until the third day after we had settled in. I was reading an old newspaper I saw on the dinning table that morning when I heard the door of the room open. I sat there on the settee, attentive to the footsteps approaching.
“Oke”, the lady called out. There was something in her pronunciation of Oge’s name that sounded familiar to me.
“Oke”, she called out a second time, Okechukwu and Ekene who were earlier glued to the T.V were now aware of her presence. The door to the passage opened and a slim dark complexioned lady peeped at us. One look at her and I knew she was Hausa; I needed no confirmation. Suddenly I placed the familiarity in her accent, I had lived with Northerners for so long to tell who was and wasn’t one by their accent.
“She went to the market,” I answered her. The lady did not appear surprised at seeing us which meant she knew about us, but we did not know what a northerner was doing in the heart of
Biafra
.
“Please can you boil water for me to bath my baby?” She requested gently.
I nodded and went to get that done. As I lit the kerosene stove to boil the water I was still wondering why she was still in the East. I knocked on her door to inform her I had finished and she asked me in. Her baby was female and very beautiful. On top of the bed lay her beads for prayers and a copy of the Koran. She must have been praying all these while I thought.
“Please mix the water for me, make it lukewarm,” she said to me politely. She was breastfeeding the baby. I did the mixing and was about to leave when she called me back.
“I heard about you and your brothers,” she started, “I am sorry for what happened to your parents.”
I nodded my thanks.
“I don’t know why all these is happening to our young country, people killing people, brothers killing brothers. We are all one no matter what,” she went on. I just stood there holding the kettle listening to her preaching.
“I understand who you feel about us but I want to let you know that it is not all Northerners are like those killing Ibos.” Tears started welling in my eyes.
“This separation will not help anybody in this country. It will lead to a war and wars only bring about more deaths and suffering,” she said staring at the ceiling. I knew what she was going through, she was unsure of herself, she was afraid for her life and that of her daughter.
“Why are you still here?” I asked for the first time. She turned her eyes to me immediately to read the expressions on my face.
“I am trapped here,” she said quietly looking into my eyes, “I was heavily pregnant when it all began, I could not travel in that conditions so had to stay and deliver my baby before I could go. My husband left for Katsina and has not come back since. I don’t know what to do. I live in fear day by day, I don’t know what will happen to me tomorrow, I don’t know if my husband will ever see his child. I don’t know, I don’t know”, she burst out crying “I can only pray to Allah to be merciful,” she said crying.
“Ba nasu yana ya mutu” she said in Hausa, “I don’t want me or my baby to die.”
“Allah will help you just as God helped us. You and your baby will not die” I replied her.
She looked up at me, surprised that I understood what she said in Hausa.
“What is her name?” I asked dropping the kettle and moving nearer the baby who kept sucking on her mother’s milk.
“Hafsat,” she replied.
“How old is she?” I asked her
“Eight months,” she answered.
“She is so beautiful,” I complimented as I made to touch the child. Her mother withdrew her from feeding, exposing a dark wet nipple of her large breast. Hafsat started crying as I lifted her and tried to calm her. Her mother kept smiling amidst her tears. She then set up the bathing plastic bowl and gently gave her a bath. I watched happily as she powdered the baby with baby talcum powder and rubbed her lotion. She later changed her into fresh nappies and asked me to help her wash the messed up ones.
“Please don’t spread it outside bring it back inside,” she warned. From that day her room became my most favourite room; it was no longer out of bounds. I bathed Hafsat, fed her, cuddled her to sleep and also wash her nappies. It soon dawned on me how I missed Aunty Nkem’s unborn child. Hafsat’s mother was called Halima she had been one of Mrs. Okonkwo’s students during her undergraduate years and had come down to the university to start her masters degree when the political situation in the country deteriorated. Since then, she lived in perpetual fear inside the house. If any visitor came, she became afraid and extremely careful to the extent of muffling Hafsat’s cries not to be heard by visitors. I watched with pity and pain. Halima was constantly praying with her beads, her mouth would keep moving without any words uttered. Whenever she picked her beads to pray, which was so often, I would carry little Hafsat to our room to stay. I started putting the two of them in my prayers and also asked Okechukwu and Ekene to be doing so. “Pray that God will help them as he helped us,” I enjoined them.
Dr. Okonkwo was rarely in the house; he always came around in the afternoon to take his lunch and will be driven off immediately. Oge told me he was drafted into the army to help in repairing their equipments. In the beginning of July, the university campus was getting filled with so many military presences, so was the whole town of
Nsukka
. The popular topic amongst everybody was the looming war; it was discussed in market places, bus-stops, beer parlours and even in the church. The much talk about the war also came with confidence in the Biafran army, the soldiers who were smartly dressed in their green uniforms with the rising sun insignia on their arm were really a sight of confidence. Biafrans were waiting for the Nigerians to make the first move.
The first move came a few days later, July 6th to be precise. The day before the war started began like every ordinary day with the usual activities in the campus. Mrs. Okonkwo left for school in the morning and her husband failed to make his usual afternoon appearance for lunch. I carried Hafsat all through the day while Okechukwu and Ekene drew with crayons on papers. Halima even managed to laugh as we all sat chatting in the sitting room; she had ceased locking herself away from us ever since the day I helped her with her baby. The evening was cloudy and dark so everyone went into their respective houses expecting the early July rain to fall. In the night, sounds were heard very far from Nsukka town. Okechukwu heard it but I dismissed it as thunderstorms in the nearby villages of Obollo Afor and Obollo Eke. The only odd part of the thunderstorms was that it did not rain that night. In the early hours of the morning, the whole town of
Nsukka
was in pandemonium. An army officer holding a public address system mounted on the struck made it clear, the much dreaded war with
Nigeria
had commenced during the night. The sounds in the wee hours of that morning were sounds of bombs and heavy shelling from the
Nigeria
army. Everybody was advised to evacuate from Nsukka with immediate effect. Radio
Biafra
kept repeating the information for civilians to move out from Nsukka to enable the gallant Biafran soldiers have enough room to deal with the enemies.
We heard about the war from Mrs. Okonkwo. She had gone to work but came back in a jiffy with fear written all over her face.
“The war has started,” she announced as she slumped on the settee. Everybody’s long fear had been confirmed. Halima came out from her room on hearing the news.
“What did you say?” she enquired with much fear than the news breaker.
“They said the war have started at Obollo Afor,” Mrs Okonkwo repeated. Obollo Afor was less than three miles from Nsukka town. Oge came in to announce the evacuation order and every body went into action. The same was happening in all the staff quarters. Every body was packing from the town. Lorries were called up to carry some of the loads. As the packing went on, news kept filtering in that the Nigerian attacks met stiff opposition from the Biafran side. That gave everybody ample time to move out from Nsukka as no guarantee was given on how long the defence would last. Dr Okonkwo arrived around
noon
in a heavy company of soldiers; he was equally wearing an army uniform freshly starched. An army truck arrived with him.
“Get all the boxes out and get them loaded,” he ordered the two soldiers that came with him. He went along into the room with his wife for a quick briefing. The whole place was disordered in a matter of minutes as boxes upon boxes were carried out by the soldiers. I went into Halima’s room and met her holding her child crying.
“Why are you crying?” I asked, making to carry Hafsat.
“I don’t know but I feel I will not live long,” she said amidst tears.
“The world is not over yet,” I told her. Dr. Okonkwo came into the room unannounced, startling Halima; the uniform got me scared too.
“Halima,” he called out expressionless, “I have made arrangements for you t o leave for
Nigeria
through
Onitsha
. We have been waiting to know where the initial attacks will come from and it is here on our end. Obidike will take you to
Onitsha
where you can go over through the
Midwest
to
Ibadan
. I believe Nigerians will concentrate more so
Onitsha
will be freer” he finished. He paused momentarily waiting for his lecture to sink in, typical of his nature as a lecturer.
Halima nodded in understanding but still appeared tensed with his presence.
“It is a pity we had to plan it this way but this is nobody’s doing, nobody expected this to go this far but what can we do,” he stopped for a while to look at Hafsat who I had in my arms.
“I pray that God will protect you and take you home safely,” he said gently without taking his eyes away from the child. He turned and left as abruptly as he came in.
“Linda will see you later,” he called behind him as he marched out.
Halima burst out in a fresh round of tears, she was still sobbing when Mrs. Okonkwo came in to console her.
“I will conceal you and the baby, don’t worry everything will be alright” she comforted the crying lady.
“When are we to leave?” she asked, her eyes red from crying.
“We will leave tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Okonkwo supplied.
We left towards afternoon the next day. Everywhere was busy with people fleeing from Nsukka town with the properties they could take away. Lorries with loads of people kept passing us on the way. Halima was disguised in Ibo traditional attire with a matching ichafu or head tie. Mrs. Okonkwo was equally dressed traditionally. We travelled along with them in the 404 wagon car while the lorry came behind. When we got to the Ninth mile corner, we headed towards
Onitsha
while the truck accompanied by Oge continued to
Enugu
. We continued the journey with Halima not saying a word since we left Nsukka. When we got to Oji town, we ran into a road block mounted by some youths and Biafran soldiers. Many cars where lined up going through a thorough search. Each occupant was interrogated to ascertain their ethnic origin. Halima had been praying throughout the journey in her normal silent method.
‘What is the problem Obidike?” Mrs. Okonkwo asked the driver from the back seat where they were seated. The driver quickly took in the picture and explained the situation in Ibo, Mrs. Okonkwo became apprehensive immediately and her facial expression betrayed her knowledge. Halima got the message instantly.
“Can you turn back?” Mrs. Okonkwo asked the driver.
“Madam if I try to turn now they might shoot us,” he answered afraid. Some cars had already pulled behind us rendering the suggestion ineffectual. Some of the soldiers were coming to our car. Halima held on tightly to her baby, in a very pathetic way. She kept whimpering as her chest heaved up and down on the attire she was disguised in. The inspection was getting to our turn.
“Calm down I will handle this,” Mrs. Okonkwo said to her reassuringly.
The car in front of us was being searched and its occupants quizzed. One of the soldiers holding his rifle pointing skywards marched over to us.
Everybody sat still, Halima held on to Hafsat and the fear in her face was very visible.
“All of you come down for searching,” the soldier said as he approached our car.
“Let me talk to him,” Mrs. Okonkwo said getting her head out of the window.
“Officer, please don’t be offended, we are rushing to
Borromeo
Hospital
at
Onitsha
, my sister’s…”
“Madam Obey before complain!” The soldier roared cutting her short, his voice and the manner with which he flashed his eyes made it clear that he needn’t be disobeyed. The car in front of was cleared and it drove off, the other soldier branding a machine gun with only his army beret on came towards us; I thought he was a civilian if not for the gun and beret he was wearing as he walked towards us smoking hemp openly.
“E mora na ibughi onye Ibo puta ebe a!” he ordered in Ibo, “If you know you are not Ibo, come out.”
“Can somebody listen to me? I said we are going to
Borromeo
Hospital
at
Onitsha
. My sister’s child is sick,” Mrs Okonkwo said frantically. It was obvious she was trying their patience and her behaviour aroused their suspicion. She watched from window to window, trying to get the soldiers attention; her desperation attracted more of the youths to our car.
“If you know you be Hausa come out!” the man smoking shouted, in a swift hopeless gestures Halima shouted in a loud cry.
“Allah ya saike ni da iyaria bam u kasha kowa ba! Allah save me and my child please I did not kill anybody.” On hearing her shout and the language, the mob surrounded our car. The doors were forcefully opened and they tried to pull Halima out. She clung to Hafsat and with the other arm held Mrs. Okonkwo. Both of them were begging, Mrs. Okonkwo in Ibo and Halima in Hausa. Ekene who sat in between them was being rough handled in the process.
“Biko nu rapu nu ya! Please leave her alone.”
“Dan Allah ma rook nka, don allah kan ku kashi ni da iya na! Please I beg you please don’t kill me and my child.”
Halima’s headtie got loose in the ensuring melee and Hafsat was crying uncontrollably.
The soldier on mufti angrily pulled the baby away from her, causing her beads to tear and scatter in all directions. Halima ran out after her baby with her wrapper falling to the ground. The man that grabbed Hafsat marched angrily with the crying child towards the bridge and without looking back, and despite the cries of the innocent child, threw her into the river. As Halima was running towards them, the hamper containing the baby’s feeding, bottles and spare clothes fell spilling the contents everywhere. She was immediately caught by the youths and carried up amidst her cries and shouts towards the bridge. Her eyes were bulging out in apparent fear of her impending death.
“Madam Okonkwo, Madam, help!” she kept screaming struggling in the air. Mrs. Okonkwo fell to the ground while trying to cover Halima and was held from going towards her by the other soldier. The boys lifted Halima up and threw her into the river also. As she fell into the river, her screams as the current drowned her could be heard. It was over within a few minutes; two innocent human lives were taken away for no justifiable reason only that they were Northerners. The act was done without the perpetrators batting an eyelid, without remorse or conscience; it was done with a feeling of satisfaction that their action was vengeance for their fellow slain brothers and sisters.
Mrs. Okonkwo kept calling Halima’s name but it was over. The soldiers then came to interrogate us asking for our names, our Ibo names and its meaning. After satisfying themselves that there was no other northerner amongst us, they waved the driver who was holding Mrs. Okonkwo closely to proceed. Many of the occupants of the vehicles lined up after us watched helplessly and most of the women in their midst were crying out loud. I was crying also, so was Okechukwu and Ekene.
“What have you gained now, killers? Cold blooded killers! What did that woman do to you that you would kill her and her baby? That baby is just eight months old! Killers! Killers! Cold blooded killers!” Mrs. Okonkwo shouted hysterically. She was shattered and annoyed and the driver held her, trying to calm her and prevent her from moving towards the killers
“Otua ga ha si gbuo umunne anyi na ugwu awusa! That was what they did to our brothers in the North, we will avenge their deaths. Hausa must die in
Biafra
. Ndi awusa ga anwu na Biafra ho-ha!” The soldier that killed Hafsat said in retaliation flashing his blood shot eyes at us. The driver took a crying and spent Mrs. Okonkwo into the car. I came out and picked the hampers and its contents including Halima’s head tie and wrapper. As I made to go, I sighted one of Hafsat’s shoes; it must have fallen off her while she was being roughly grabbed. As I bent to pick it, my tears fell on it. I took it as a souvenir of the child I had become close to over the days.
“Shall we continue to
Onitsha
?” The driver asked.
Mrs. Okonkwo was crying with her whole body shaking.
“Take me to
Enugu
, what are we going to
Onitsha
to do? Gini ka anyi na ejesi Onitsha ime?” she said amidst tears. The driver reversed while everybody watched in silence and we started going back to
Enugu
, there was no use going to
Onitsha
again.
Enugu
, the Biafran state capital, was heavily guarded militarily. On all corners of the road, there was the presence of the army. They drove around in combat ready jeeps, holding their rifles proudly and at the ready. The town was more at ease as compared to the evacuation happening at Nsukka and the scores of people coming in by the day were enormous. The Biafran flag adored almost all the streets in the town and posters of the head of state were equally everywhere. We drove straight to Dr. Okonkwo’s brother’s house at Uwani. The street was called Bishop Anyogu and our abode was number 9. Activities in
Enugu
town seemed normal as children still went to school, the market still opened and the television still operated. It did not look like the war was some miles away. There was a secondary school directly opposite our new house and we could see the students standing during their assembly every morning. It was at
Enugu
I learnt of and saw the new Biafran currency that had been introduced; that knowledge spelt trouble for us. I still had our £19 which has already become unusable in
Biafra
. There were some points where the Nigerian Pounds was being exchanged for Biafran pounds. I could not go immediately for some reasons. Mrs. Okonkwo had become ill since that day Halima was killed, and again I did not know the town at all. I believed that because £19 would surely raise eyebrows as anyone would want to know how I got to get such money at my age. Mrs. Okonkwo took ill immediately after we reached
Enugu
. It started with weakness to which everyone thought it was as a result of the tragic deaths she witnessed but her health did not get better. She would wake up shouting in the night. Her husband’s brother called Goddy decided to take her to the University Teaching Hospital which was situated there at
Enugu
since she was a staff of the institution. Her husband could not be reached immediately since the day we departed Nsukka. I was mandated to accompany her to the hospital as Oge, her house help, insisted she wanted to go home to her people at Awka. The driver took us to the hospital a week after we arrived. The University Teaching Hospital was a very big hospital and was near Ogbete market. There were so many nurses and doctors all over the place. We went to see a doctor who checked on Mrs. Okonkwo and directed she should be admitted immediately. Her blood pressure was very high; he feared it was life threatening. Some nurses came and wheeled her off to a ward where she was given a bed while Obidike and Goddy went about the protocol of registering her and getting her a card. The ward was a very long expansive one and occupied close to 100 patients; there were women that just gave birth and some patients that had just undergone surgery. Many of them were casualties of the pogrom and were either brought back by train or by air from the North. The numbers kept increasing everyday. Some of the army casualties in the on going war were brought to the hospitals also amidst cheers from the people for their gallantry. People trouped to catch a glimpse of the wounded heroes.
My daily activities started by waiting for Goddy’s fiancée called Ndidi to prepare breakfast for Mrs. Okonkwo, and then I would carry the neatly packed meal to the hospital. Mrs. Okonkwo was always looking tired everyday and ate less; she was put on drip for so many days. I would always sit by her bedside while she slept and watched the doctors and nurses admiringly. The nurse in charge of Mrs. Okonkwo was a very friendly, her name was Ogoo and she became my friend.
“I want to become a doctor when I grow up,” I informed her one evening as she came to check on her patient.
“Oh Ngozi, that will be good, you have to read hard and pray hard for this war to end on time,” she replied.
“The war will soon stop and we will win,” I said faithfully.
“If I were you, I would pray for it to end immediately without any winner or loser so that everybody will be on their own without killing anybody.”
“I will do so,” I promised her.
“Why did you become a nurse?” I asked her.
“To be able to help people who are sick,” she replied laughing, “why do you want to be a doctor?” She threw back at me. I hesitated before answering her.
“Because of Dr. Ahmed,” I answered, looking seriously at her.
“And who is he?” She asked as she made notes on her file. I went ahead and told her what happened in
Kaduna
.
“You mean you went through all these things and still want to be a doctor?” She asked in surprise. I nodded my head, I was quite sure of myself. From that day, Ogoo allowed me to walk around the ward with her during her checkups on patients. Dr. Okonkwo visited some few days later; he was still dressed in his army uniform and did not sit down. He stood by the bedside holding his wife’s hand and looking at her.
“Did you hear what they did to them?” His wife asked.
“Who?” He asked.
“Halima and her baby.”
He nodded slowly and went on to avoid the topic.
“I called Chike and Chidinma,” he said. The mention of her children’s name brought some life into her face.
“How are they?” She asked smiling.
“They are fine and sends their regards,” he told her.
“I want this war to stop. What kind of war is this Fred?” She asked her husband.
“It is a defensive war dear, we are defending ourselves.”
“What about the university?” She asked. Her husband looked away as if trying to avoid the question.
“I am afraid Nsukka will soon fall into enemy hands,” he said bitterly, “So many of our students that enlisted into the army have been killed. Ojukwu is still promising us weapons when wants to wipe
Biafra
away from existence.” There was a kind of passion in the way he said those words.
“Fred you can still come out so that we can go home to Okigwe,” Mrs. Okonkwo said delicately to him.
“You have to get out of this place first. Why do you keep thinking too hard? The doctor said your BP is still high and does not come down. Why are you doing this to yourself Linda?” Dr Okonkwo asked. His wife started crying again.
“Fred please come out let’s go home please,” she pleaded. He gently released her hand.
“I am now a soldier, I have sworn to defend this country against all odds. I would stand by this call to duty,” he stated meanly. He quickly wished his wife quick recovery and marched out.
“Ngozi how are your brothers?” He asked me as he passed.
“They are in the house,” I replied.
“Good, look after your Madam very well,” he said jokingly and left without looking back.
To all Biafran, they were winning the war. Radio
Biafra
made sure of that by constantly broadcasting that the enemy has been chased
shamefully back to their territory. The broadcaster praised the gallantry of the Biafran army, heaping accolades on
Col.
Ojukwu the head of state. He always ended up abusing Gowon and the Hausa people, promising them that they were yet to
see anything. BBC on the other hand gave the account of the war to be on the
Nigeria
side. They reported that the
Nigeria
initial attack was stiffly opposed but that the following attacks were successfully executed. They went on to say that the
town of
Nsukka
had fallen to the Nigerian forces. Due to their report of the progress of the Nigerian forces, everybody
dismissed their news as false because
Britain
was in support of
Nigeria
. People tuned instead to Radio Biafra to keep
hearing cheering news of the propagandas. I was always at the hospital so had little time for Okechukwu and Ekene. Ndidi
registered them in a nearby nursery school at
Robinson Street
, not far from our street. Both of them made new friends and
always told me about what happened in school. I was to get registered into a primary school pending Mrs. Okonkwo
recovery and eventual discharge from the hospital. Everything was going on fine in
Enugu
that we never talked about
going home to Mama. The month of August that year was very peaceful, the reason being the news that Biafran forces had
captured the Mid-west and were in total control of
Benin
, the mid western capital. The joy of Biafrans was so much that
many people came out on the streets rejoicing the feat. Congratulatory messages to the Head of state increased on the
Radio and television. The following week came the report that
Ore
in the Western region had been captured; the reporter
even boasted that before the week runs out,
Lagos
the capital of
Nigeria
would fall and Gowon will surrender. The news
gave more confidence to Biafrans and many more recruits to the army, everyone now wanted to fight. The situation
remained unchallenged till towards the end of September when the
Republic
of
Benin
was declared by Biafran in a bid to
have conquered
Nigeria
and brought independence and sovereignty to the Mid-west. The rapid advancement and capture
of some Nigerian towns may have contributed in the peace that reigned in August because the Nigerian forces left their
offensive through Nsukka to tackle the unexpected attack of the Biafran army apparent advance to
Ibadan
and
Lagos
. Few
days after the successful feats of the army, it was announced on the radio that some Biafran army officers tried
unsuccessfully to overthrow the Ojukwu but were promptly caught, tried and executed. They were labelled saboteurs.
Many University students went on demonstration against anymore ‘sabo’ as they were eventually called. Some of the
officers executed were mainly those that staged the January 1966 Coup that started the whole trouble. The dust of the
attempted Coup was yet to settle a few days later when the war came to Biafrans in living colours.
The 24th day of September started normally without any premonition of what lay ahead. I took Okechukwu and Ekene to school and walked home. I was happy that morning because Mrs. Okonkwo was to be discharged that day so I could start school. I came back to the house to meet everybody in a happy mood, Goddy informed me that they were ready to move to the hospital. We all drove to the hospital together and met Mrs. Okonkwo chatting with everybody. We had barely stayed up to thirty minutes when loud explosions were heard in the distance. Everybody ran towards the window to find out where the explosions were coming from. About four move explosions sounded in different parts of the town, the nearest exploding inside the Ogbete main market.
“They are throwing bombs in the market,” Goddy shouted alarmed, as he watched the black smoke that was pluming from the market. There was a general state of chaos as cars hooted their horns in the traffic jam. People started running away from the market. Within some minutes of the last explosion, the first set of casualties started arriving the hospital. Some were carried by their fellow traders while they more burnt casualties were carried on wheel barrows. One of the victims was brought on a motorcycle; he was totally burnt white with red blood parches all over his body. The cyclist rode up and down the hospital drive-way air to soothe the victim’s peeled body. All the doctors and nurses were running about trying to attend to the emergency.
“Linda, I think we better get moving,” Goddy said to Mrs. Okonkwo. There was no time for her to follow the hospital rules on discharging patients. We packed her things and rushed to the car. On our way home we passed truck upon truck of soldiers going towards Milliken Hill. When we got home, Goddy went into his room confused. I was happy to see that my brothers were home. If the fears impacted on all of us by the explosions and gory sight of people burnt alive weighed us down, the voice coming from the radio erased all the fears. The newscaster acknowledged the bombings and assured every Biafran that the army had dealt with the enemies and that the situation was under control. It seemed so till the next day when the shelling became heavy and indiscriminate. Buildings were exploding so was the streets and roads. The people that had been deceived by the Biafran Radio propagandist started running with only their portable properties. The call for volunteers to defend the capital fell on deaf rears. Goddy arranged for us to leave town immediately. I saw students running helter-skelter amidst the chaos, abandoned crying children littered the streets as their relations searched for them. People jumped into any moving vehicle they saw that was heading away from
Enugu
. We drove towards Awkunanaw, towards the outskirts of
Enugu
metropolis and saw the Biafran army marching on towards the town probably to defend it. Goddy drove into Boy’s High School Awkunanaw and dropped us there. It was a big school and served as the emergency refugee camp. People remained there to watch events. Goddy’s plan was for us to wait for him there while he made necessary arrangement to pack all our belongings from the house before we departed for Okigwe, their home town. None of us came with any of our belonging. In the camp we heard so many stories about the situation; some said that Ojukwu himself was leading the attack to defend
Enugu
. Matters were made worse by the news on Radio Biafra in the evening that
Enugu
had been thoroughly defended by brave Biafran soldiers with the enemies crushed. Dr. Okonkwo met us at the camp the next day, he said he had gone to the hospital and later to the house looking for us and that a neighbour advised him to check the camp. Goddy had still not returned from his the arrangements he went to make.
“I cannot wait for him all day,” Dr Okonkwo said, “I am coming from the house now and it was properly locked” he said, “I had wanted to collect our boxes from there. I don’t think it is best to wait for Godwin. I came with a truck for this purpose.”
“Are you going to the house yourself?” His wife asked him afraid.
“Yes,” he replied. One of the soldiers that escorted him came to him.
“Sir,” he saluted, “the commander wants to speak to you on the wireless.”
Dr. Okonkwo left us and went away with him. He returned an hour later to inform us that he was leaving immediately.
“Who has the keys to the house?” He asked. Ndidi, Goddy’s fiancée, brought the keys out of her handbag and handed them to him.
“Ngozi, you will follow Obidike to collect the boxes. Make sure you show them our boxes it contains our certificates and many useful documents,” he said to me handing me the keys. He assigned a soldier to escort us for the task.
“Ngozi, please also get my box of clothes and that black leather handbag,” Mrs. Okonkwo included. It was getting late and I was eager for us to start going as I had also forgotten my precious pack of money behind. It was almost evening by the time we left for
Bishop Anyogu Street
. Obidike drove the truck while I sat beside the soldier who kept watching the road, holding tightly to his rifle. We passed few cars on our way to the town. As the truck rode on the road, the noise it made reverberated everywhere. Some houses had their lights on which convinced us that
Enugu
had really been cleared of the enemies. By the time we got to the house it was dark. Obidike parked the truck and instructed us to get down while he reverses. We got down and I made for the house.
“Wait for him to come down so that he will carry the loads. I have to stay out here and watch out,” the soldier said. I stood with him there watching Obidike get to the junction near the traffic light to turn. When he finally parked and killed the engine, he was surprised to see us still standing.
“What are you still waiting for?” He questioned, the soldier went ahead to tell him to go and get the boxes.
“How can only me carry those boxes, we have to do this thing together,” Obidike was saying when I noticed two soldiers inside the gutters, crawling towards us. I pointed them out to them and Obidike was suddenly afraid. The soldier cocked his gun but lowered it when he noticed they were Biafran soldiers. When they had come close, they climbed out and started questioning the solider.
“What are you doing here?” They asked in apprehension, our escort explained our mission to them but they seemed not to be satisfied.
“Which battalion are you from?”
“15th Battalion,” he answered.
“Who is your commander?”
“Major Okonkwo of Engineering Corps,” our soldier replied.
“Are you not aware that the enemies are here?” The officer doing the interrogation informed us. Our escort opened his eyes in surprise and shook his head to indicate he was ignorant of the development. Obidike, the driver, on hearing the news dropped the keys to the truck in fear. As he bent down to pick the keys up, the rapid sound of gunshots fired jolted everybody as the bullets hit the ground close to where we were all standing and sent bits of concrete and smoke up in succession. The second soldier that crawled out shouted in pain as everyone ran for cover. I ran straight into the stairs and hid. The shooting continued smashing windows and breaking walls. Obidike and our escort ran also into the stairs followed by the other solider, pulling his wounded colleague along. Once under cover, he took out his handkerchief to tie the arm of his colleagues who wriggled in pains, blood soaked his uniform instantly.
“You people are on your own,” the soldier said angrily still peeping outside.
“That means the Hausas have occupied the school,” the wounded soldier uttered in pains. His brother nodded still looking out from the door.
“These stupid people blew our cover with the noise of that truck,” he said holding his rifle on the ready.
“We have to get going before they meet us here,” the wounded one said, standing up from his sitting position and squeezing his face in pains.
“You people better know where to hide,” the other solider said before they started crawling out quietly in the dark.
“Ngozi go and open the door,” Obidike whispered. I was shaking all over as I quietly and fearfully went up the stairs to the door; my shaking hands could not insert the key into the key hole. Obidike came along and opened the doors. We shut the door immediately, bolting all the bolts and locking burglary proof. We did not switch any light on for fear of giving ourselves away. All these while, our escort was silent, he sat near the door in thought.
“What are we going to do Oga?” Obidike asked him in a whisper.
“What do you want me to do”, he retorted silently, “your foolish Oga sent us to collect useless boxes of clothes now look at what has happened. This Hausa soldiers will kill us all.”
“Can’t you shoot them? You have a gun,” Obidike indicated.
“Shoot what? You must be out of your mind. Do you know how many enemy soldiers are out there? Don’t you know they might have bombs also?” He replied. From their whispered conversation, I knew that the soldier was totally afraid and very incapable of defending us.
“We should have followed those soldiers to escape” Obidike said.
“You civilians are very foolish at times. You almost got them killed with your noisy truck and you want to jeopardize their lives the more. They would not have hesitated to shoot you had you mentioned this silly idea.”
Obidike froze and shut up.
“Do you have enough bullets in your gun?” He asked after a while.
“I have fifteen rounds of ammunition; if the Hausa eventually comes I will make sure I remain one bullet to kill myself with before they get me.” Obidike did not say a word again. My eyes had adapted to the dark and I knew that the soldier was not bluffing. He went to the window and tried to peep outside, there was not a single sound outside to suggest anything and the silence increased our tension. I was hiding under the dining table shaking all over; the sounds of the gun firing frightened the hell out of me.
“Ngozi,” Obidike called in a low tone. I answered from my hiding place.
“You better go into the room and start getting the boxes.” I obeyed him, dutifully opening the door to Goddy’s bedroom. I had to work in the dark and first of all collected Mrs.Okonkwo’s handbag bag from the floor where it was left. I identified the two boxes and tried lifting them but was unable to do so. I crawled out to the sitting room to call Obidike to help me. He equally crawled on all fours to the room. As we were lifting the boxes something fell and crashed on the floor. We both dived to the ground freezing. I was expecting to hear another round of firing but none came. The soldier come into the room evidently annoyed.
“If you idiots don’t come out of there now I will kill you people,” he threatened in a low bitter tone.
“Oga said we should get the boxes,” Obidike tried to explain.
“Shut the fuck up and come out of there, now.” The tone of the soldier was one to be taken seriously. We quietly crawled out to the parlour.
“You people dey carry box when you never know whether you go die this night,” the soldier said annoyingly. We all remained there in the sitting room as time went. The only noise inside the room was the ticking of clock hanging on the wall. I became sleepy but knew it would not be a wise thing to do in the face of the grave danger we were in. Towards
midnight
, we heard the footsteps walking up the stairs and then the door knob turned over and over again quietly. The three of us were shaking in fear; both the soldier and Obidike were farting with careless abandon. The murmuring of the enemy’s voices could be heard audibly outside the door as the tried to force the door open. Our soldier aimed the gun on the door with his fingers on the trigger. I could not concentrate to pray or do any reasonable thing, I just kept saying please inside my mind without knowing who I was pleading to. The enemy soldiers resorted to kicking the door in order to force it open but the mahogany door stood. After struggling with the door for about fifteen minutes, we heard their footsteps retreating. They opened the truck doors and later closed it in a bang. The sleep that was on me flew away from my face and I remained awake throughout that night. The mosquitoes inside the house did not make matters easier, they feasted on our bodies, sucking on us without anybody attempting to kill them for fear that the sound might attract the enemies. We all had a vigil for our lives throughout the night. As morning came, our fears increased. The soldier went to the window and peeped outside.
“The truck is still there,” he announced as if we did not know that already. He decided he would go down and survey the surrounding; that was about the only brave thing I acknowledged he has done since we were held under siege. We quietly unlocked the doors, allowing him to creep out. After a long wait, he came back to alert us that we should start going.
“Are you sure?” Obidike asked relatively afraid.
“Look if we must move it has to be now. Maybe the company of last night just came on reconnaissance survey, they may have gone back to report their finding. We have to move now before they arrive,” he explained in his military calculation. Obidike was still not convinced about his theory went to the window to scrutinize the
Uwani
Secondary School
compound, the place from where the shots were fired the previous night. He was still afraid.
“Obidike let’s follow what he said,” I pleaded with him.
“Look at you a man being afraid and this small girl has a heart than you. It’s just that I cannot drive, I will just leave you here idiot,” the soldiers cursed. Obidike finally agreed to move.
“How are we going to carry the boxes?” He asked the soldier.
“Will you forget about those boxes and concentrate on our lives Mr. Man,” the soldier nagged.
“We can still carry the box at least,” I supplied. The soldier eyed me for some time then shrugged.
“In that case, I will stand guard and watch while you people do it,” he volunteered and went to the window. After peeping again to be sure of nothing sinister, he told us to come down quickly at the wave to his hand. We hurriedly brought the boxes to the sitting room and waited for the signal. Immediately we saw him wave his hand, we lifted one of the boxes hurriedly down the stairs. I was surprised at my strength. As we moved out from the door leading to the stairs I saw the trail of dried blood of the soldier that was hit last night. We quickly put the first box inside the back of the truck and rushed for the second box. After successfully getting the loads secured, Obidike asked me to go and lock up while he starts the engine. I quickly dashed to our room and collected my bag and quickly lifted the mattress and picked the nylon pack containing our money. As I started locking up, I heard the sound of the engine kicking to life. I rushed down and entered the truck and Obidike sped off. All of us were still expecting to hear gunshots behind us but that did not happen. As we got into the long stretch of
Agbani Road
, I breathed a sigh of relief because with the way Obidike was speeding, it would take a plane to catch us. As I looked up at the soldier I saw his eyes closed and his mouths moving in silent prayers and he was sweating. Obidike himself held the steering as if his life depended on it. As we neared
Awkunanaw Road
, we met sight Biafran soldiers in position. Obidike burst out laughing.
“We no die! We don make am! We don’t make am” he shouted looking at the soldier who was equally relaxed and smiling.
“You dey serious say you for shoot yourself?” Obidike asked jokingly.
“I go fight them first before I die,” the soldier said laughing.
“You self dey fear death, Soja like you,” Obidike said laughing.
“Why I no go fear, you feel say this Khaki na bullet proof as if I no be human being,” the solider replied also laughing. Obidike laughed so loud that he started punching the steering. As we approached the soldiers, our escort narrated to their commander the events that happened the pervious night. The commander pointed out to him that he had been observing the enemies on his binoculars, they were reinforcing he informed him. After inspecting the boxes and bag, the commander commended our escort on his bravery to accomplish his mission. As he saluted in return Obidike laughed inside the car.
“Yeye Soja, you don dey pose like say im be hero,” Obidike cajoled as we continued our journey to Awkunanaw and found Mrs. Okonkwo, Goddy, Okechukwu and Ekene all worried about us. They were happy to see us and listened to our story with wonder.
“We have to start leaving immediately,” Goddy said, it was the instruction of Dr. Okonkwo. A little problem developed when we started packing, the director in charge of the camp wanted to make use of our truck. Our escort went to see him and inform him that the truck belonged to the 15th Battalion and was on official duty. He came back some few minutes later looking downcast.
“The animal still insists they will use it,” he announced. Everybody became sad.
“I tried to explain to him but he said I was a saboteur,” he went on.
“What do we do now?” Goddy asked.
“I have a plan,” the soldier suggested, “you people should pack all your things inside the truck and go wait at the gate. The driver will start the car as if trying to warm it then move to the gate to collect you people. That way we can so that we can escape,” he explained.
“Would that not be risky?” Mrs. Okonkwo asked looking at the troop of soldiers scattered everywhere.
“Madam, this is not my command. I will only obey my sector commander,” he replied raising his voice which I had become used to.
“Let us do as he says,” Ndidi said desperately. We immediately packed and went in twos towards the gate. The soldier helped Obidike refuel the truck with some petrol from the gallon he kept inside the trunk. We watched them from the gate as they started the truck and started driving quietly round the football field. Nobody seemed to pay attention to them and immediately, the truck increased momentum and started speeding towards our direction. Everybody scampered into the back with Goddy helping Okechukwu, Ekene and Mrs. Okonkwo to get in. When the guards at the gate realized what was happening and made to stop, our soldier threatened to shoot them. They allowed us to pass and Obidike stepped on the accelerator as usual. When we got to a place called Gariki junction, Obidike slowed down and allowed us to properly position ourselves on the seats. Mrs. Okonkwo was asked to come to the front and sit properly because of her fragile health. While we were at this, some Biafran soldiers came running towards us, waving for us to stop. They were very young soldiers and wanted to know where we were headed.
“Okigwe,” our escort announced. The three soldiers quickly threw their rifles away and started pulling off their uniforms.
“What is it?” our escort asked.
“Who wan die now abeg I wan go my village.” One of them replied as they climbed the truck.
Our escort collected their rifles and uniforms and put them beside him.
“If you don’t want to die for
Biafra
, somebody else will,” he told them. Their minds were made up to desert, so did not bulge nor make any effort to take up the guns again. Obidike started the truck and we all began our journey to Okigwe.
Enugu
, the Biafran capital fall into enemy hands three days later, but not on Radio Biafra that kept announcing that they were transmitting from
Enugu
.
Please I beg you please don’t kill me and my child.” Our almost ten months in the northern towns of Makurdi and Otukpo respectively, saw events happening retrogressively in the country. Just after the second coup of July 1966, which saw Col Gowon, the erstwhile army chief of staff, emerge as the head of state, the then military Governor of the Eastern region, Col.Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, refused to recognize him as the head of state. He argued that Gowon was not the most senior officer in the military council to take over power. It was reasoned that the Northerners arranged the coup to deliberately return power to their region, thereby bypassing the supposedly next in command to the ousted head of State, Gen Ironsi. The supposed officer was a southerner of Western origin. The riots and disturbances which happened in May that year, which claimed the lives of my brother, his wife and close to three thousand Ibos in the northern regions, was hugely carried out due to the North’s clamour for or succession, which was the primary objective of the July 29 coup that brought in Col. Gowon as head of state. The Northerners sole aim was to secede from Nigeria. On the first day of August, the new Head of State, Col. Gowon, broadcasted to the whole nation of his strong belief that the country “could no longer honestly and sincerely continue in being a unitary government and have not been able to stand the test of time.” He went further to call for a review of the issues in the country’s national standing and see if his junta could stop the country drifting away into ultimate destruction. That set the stage for the much needed secession of the North from the Nigeria entity. It came as a surprise that the Head of State shifted his policy surprisingly from what the North intended doing which was practically to secede from Nigeria to confederation almost immediately after his announcement. Rumours had it that he was talked out of his earlier stance by Britain to withhold his declaration of secession. To add credence to his new policy on keeping Nigeria as a united country, the Head of State released the political detainees of the January 15th coup and promulgated a decree that rescinded Decree 34, by so doing, restored the regions and the federal systems of government; the same system for which they claimed the Nzeogwu coup was carried out. An Ad hoc Constitutional conference was convened at Lagos in month of September which was a welcome relief to the long suffering Easterners. The conference took off with so much optimism but was shattered shortly after the committee went on break to consult with their regions. The massacre of the Ibos started afresh.
Untill you put on the shoes of someone you will never understand,sometimes we have to visit the past so that mistakes are not made again as an ijaw man i have to learn and understand other tribes respect and love them, few people lecture the youths who never saw the war in this present generation, if i have made any comment against the ibos i ask for an apology, i pray that one day we should see ourselves as brothers and give love and respect to others even if they are minorityor majority.:sad:
Authors 
Posted by Robot| 23.08.2007 09:15