I walked home after my shift, barely able to contain my excitement. I could not wait to share the news of my promotion with my greatest cheerleader, my mother. I was the youngest pediatrician to attain that height in the hospital since its establishment. Mama would be so proud. She was an angel sent from above! Her love, care, and encouragement helped me get to this point. She had held me down all on her own, as my father had walked out on us when I was just a baby. This promotion came with increased finances, and that meant I could finally afford to give her the life she deserved.
Little B-Mama, as I fondly called her, waved at me as I got closer to my gate. I smiled at her and gave a wave in return, remembering the night we all gathered together to celebrate with her family. She had arrived after twenty years of marriage. Her birth was a much-talked-about miracle in Gonan Rogo, Kaduna where I grew up and lived. It was hard to believe she was already three years old. How time truly flies!
Mama broke into a joyful dance when I poured out the good news. It was such a sight to see. I laughed and laughed, and then we both cried. It felt like things were already looking up for us. Later that evening, I rolled into bed with a smile on my face, thanking God it was a Friday and I did not have to wake up early the next day since I had the afternoon shift. Within seconds, I was off to dreamland.
The screams woke me up. I jerked awake groggily and tried to wrap my head around the frenzied commotion I could make outside. Then Mama tiptoed to my room and whispered that Mama Joy had called to warn her about the unknown men who had rolled into our town, carrying guns and cutlasses and sparing no one. My heart threatened to escape my chest in fear, and I silently prayed, begging God for it all to end. After a while, there was silence.
With shaky hands, I cracked open a window and noticed there was no movement. I remembered that I had left the back door open. I whispered to Mama to stay put as I crawled as fast as I could to shut it. I reached and closed it quietly, heaving a sigh of relief that no one was in sight. I turned back to return to my mother and started huddling back to where she sat. Just then, a sound at the other side of the house made me turn in time to follow the cutlass thrown to find its home at the back of my mother’s head.
My world froze. No, I did not scream. The heavy curtains hid me from them but not from the shock. They were two of them, barely older than boys. If only I had stayed with her, maybe. Guilt ripped me apart. My vision blurred as I saw her blood pool around the coffee table. How could this have happened?! Mama and I were supposed to go shopping tomorrow. She was supposed to enjoy the best in life. The tears I had been holding in dropped unhindered as I saw her blood stain the ends of the curtain. They had not seen me yet, or I would have been the next. I covered my mouth, fighting back the scream I was so sure would erupt any minute from now. Seeing no one else, they filed out.
I sat there morosely, staring at a sight I knew would be permanently seared into my brain until I heard the scream. It was B-mama; I was sure. My house was opposite theirs, and she walked freely to my house anytime. For two years, I babysat her on some of the weekends I was off duty, whenever her parents traveled to buy goods. Thoughts for my safety flew as I sought to get to her and calm her before they noticed her. I could not do anything for my mother, but I was determined to be brave for B-Mama.
I crawled out of the house to our veranda but stopped cold when I got to the street. Lying twisted on the ground was the body of Peter, my childhood friend, and a first-class graduate who was recently offered a scholarship to do his Masters’ program in London. Tears filled my eyes again as I noticed his baby brother lay not too far, hacked to death. Chest racking in sobs, I crawled on.
I was closer to the noise. But unfortunately, the bandits had gotten to her before I could. I watched, frozen in horror as two lean men stood in front of her, cracking jokes in their native tongues. I recognized the language immediately. They were slapping her, shouting at her to keep quiet. Could they not see she was just a baby, I shouted in my head. I wanted to scream at them, but fear sealed my lips. It was too late when I found courage. The first one passed the machete to the second who slapped her with it while he buried his dagger into her forehead.
No! No!! All of this cannot be real! God, please take my life. I know I see dead bodies on the regular, but this is too much to bear. Horror blended with exhaustion coursed through me, my thoughts reflecting my resignation. It was less than an hour since I had woken up.
They moved on and started burning houses, shooting, or stabbing anyone they came across. It was a slaughter. I lay there uncaring, and that combined with the darkness must have saved my life for they took me for dead. Beside me, Steve’s head lay separate from his body. All around me, littered all over the street, were the bodies of fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, children, friends, and colleagues whose lives held no appeal.
These people had names, and they were loved. Sadly, the world will forget this, as it usually does. These barbarians and outlaws will never be caught or made to pay for their crimes because we had no security personnel in the village, especially with the lockdown.
I watched in horror as my house was set ablaze. I did not get to say a final goodbye to my mother, and that was when I realized that the sun had ceased to shine. I had not only heard evil but stared at it right in the face. Mama always said that Nigeria is a land flowing with milk and honey. Today that Nigeria she passionately talked about was flowing with the blood of the innocent. Mama was gone, and so were my friends and neighbors I had come to love. There was nothing left to fight for again.
Let us spare a moment for the lives of those lost in the senseless killings going on currently in Nigeria. I do hope justice prevails. To comment for the first time, kindly input “admin” as the username and password if a prompt request demands for that. Thank you.
Love,
Diane.
