My family took refuge at Achi town near Oji River after we fled from Enugu in a village called Agbadala. Like I mentioned in the first part of this write-up, we shared an uncompleted building with twelve other families. The floor of the building was bare earth, and we had to cover the windows with cardboard. The building had one parlour and three rooms. The parlour was the largest space. At night we slept on mats spread on the floor, people numbering up to thirty, men, women, and children. It was a most uncomfortable arrangement, no privacy at all, but who needs privacy when lives are in danger?

It did not take long for me to make friends in the village. We played football in a field near the house. We hunted grasshoppers, Swallow ‘Agwa’ a bird which is a delicacy in those parts. We also went gathering firewood in the forest. But of all the things we did during the short while I stayed in Achi, what I loved most, and devoted time to was learning to fashion knives, hoes and other working implements at the smith which was abundant in Agbadala village. It was a new experience to me. It was common craftwork of the people and I found it fascinating, especially how kids my age, and even younger ones could beat the hell out of a piece of metal after heating it red hot, and fashion instruments out of them. I did learn fast. Even though the result of my final products were never as good as that of the local boys I was proud of them. I got praises from my parents and other adults in our makeshift camp. And that was very satisfying. When I was not making implements, I minded the echo, that is, the instrument used to keep the fire in the forge burning. That part I became an expert in. The echoes as they were called were locally fashioned out of the neck of a clay port sunk in a hollow that is connected to the forge through a pipe. The mouth of the clay pot  is covered tightly with a rubber material cut out of the tube of a car tire . A long stick is then attaché in the middle of the tube and tied up in such a way that it does not allow air to escape. The echo makes a beautiful sound and if you are good at it, you can make beautiful and complex rhythm with it. I am naturally good with creating rhythms and I love doing that. This was why the echo was a handy tool for me. All the kids and adult smiths often enjoy having me blow the echo for them. We sang familiar songs to the beat of my echo, especially the Biafran solidarity songs which were very common in those days. It was great fun.

I was the kind of kid who is constantly seeking action. Back home in Enugu I had so much opportunities to do a lot of things that interested me, but here in a strange environment, I was grossly limited. The things I could busy myself with became more or less routine, giving way to boredom. When that became the case, I knew it was time to seek new horizon. It happened by chance. One day, one of the bigger girls at the camp came home and announced that she was joining the red cross as a volunteer, and that she has been selected to go for a first aid course after which she will be sent on assignment. Wait a minute, I thought, after hearing this. I have been an active member of the junior Red Cross since I was eight. I attended three levels of first aid courses and was certified for all of them. I have been involved in first aid at almost every public event at the Enugu stadium, and when I came home at the close of schools due to the hostilities, I was a volunteer at the railway station taking care of returnees and victims of the pogrom. I cross-examined the girl to get more information about the whole process and she told me to go to the International Red Cross office at the Achi Joint Hospital. I went there, it was a makeshift office in a caravan.  And a few days later, I had my first assignment: Iyienu Hospital in Ogidi, near Onitsha. I remember vividly the day I came home to the camp wearing my khaki fatigue pants with a Red Cross on a white background attached to its side pouch. The top uniform was a white T-shirt with a bold Red Cross badge across the chest and back. I also had a Red Cross hand band, and most importantly, an ID card with my passport photograph on it. Boy was I excited? All the kids and even some adults came to look me over. My playmates had envy written all over them. We all thought one thing, that I am in for some good time; how wrong we were, as I had to find out later that what  I was about to embark on was something that will leave a deep mark on me for the rest of my life.

Like I mentioned before, Biafra was not death and sorrow all the time. In the mist of all the uncertainties, there was ‘normal’ life going on. After my assignment to Iyienu, I came back to Achi for a one-week break before undertaking my second assignment, this time I was posted to Nzam.

Watch out for part III

Ikechukwu Ude-Chime 

 .