Wrong Turn

A little bit over 110km/h wasn’t a normal speed on a single lane road at an odd hour of the day but that wasn’t the problem, the tension in the vehicle was. It was high, skyrocketing, I must say. I could remember the feeling I had, a bizarre; it was that of a vehicle drifting too fast into a sharp bend and I heard the tyres voice out in a screech as they struggled to remain on the asphalt and for a split second they went mute and all I heard was a violent roar of the engine and I felt a new sensation like we were airborne, a loud thud followed. I could feel my internal organs shake like a vibration was sent through every cell in my body and I went blank.

I heard voices difficult for me to articulate any when I regained consciousness. All my body was numb, I couldn’t feel myself but I knew I was in motion. I was moving fast with a lot of people around saying all sort of things and by their tone, I could tell that all wasn’t right plus I was the topic of the deliberations, the whole scenario must have overwhelmed me like a dark cloud, making me drift back into darkness once more.

“Can you hear me? Hello Sir, if you can please move a finger on your left hand”

The sweet feminine voice said as I gradually regain consciousness. My eyes were heavy but I needed to know what was going on. With a sense of Delirium, looking Confused, I stared at the unfamiliar faces. The environment was a familiar sight and I could instantly recognise what it was. It was an emergency ward of a hospital. I had been in a similar facility before;  that was when Nancy, My Ex girlfriend in the university, had a complication after an unauthorized abortion but that isn’t a gist for today. I could hear sounds like beeps from the equipment in the ward and of course the doctor who was asking me a question. I could feel my body now so I acknowledged her question by moving my index finger twice. Then I a split second it dawned on me that I was with my wife a while ago, something happened and I am here now, Oh My God, where is she. Just before the doctor could say anything else, I voiced out a sentence with all the strength I had despite how bad my chest was aching,

“Where is my wife?”

The doctor’s reaction wasn’t clear, maybe that didn’t expect me to speak or maybe it was something else, I couldn’t phantom and that made me very nervous.

                                                                   ******

                        (48 hours prior)

It was the 3^rd of March, a day before our second wedding anniversary, and I had just arrived from work. Feeling exhausted, I knocked at that door of the flat we lived in and I didn’t get any response so I knocked again; over and over again. ‘At least, she must have heard the sound of my car when I drove in’ I thought, what’s wrong? I asked myself. Moments later, I heard footsteps and twist in the lock. As the door swung open, behind it was my Sandra; my wife. She was in tears, looking dejected and frustrated. I had seen that look before so I didn’t bother asking what happened. Sobbing intensely, she said as she threw herself into my embrace was;

“I shouldn’t have picked her calls Tope, I swear I shouldn’t have” 

“I understand dear, Mama can be a pain in the ass a times, maybe most of the time. I am sorry” I responded.

We had only being married for two and yet my mum was pestering her for a child, obviously not because she didn’t feel she could have children but because she was trying to get back at me for marrying someone from the East; an Igbo girl, against her wish. This kind of emotional torture was fast becoming a regular occurrence in our home, solely caused by my Mum but that very day, she crossed the line. She told Sandra over the phone that she was bringing a new wife for me and she will have to live with the reality of being a first wife in the house since she didn’t have a womb which could qualify her to be the only wife. The incident got Sandra really upset but it was still my choice to accept mum’s proposition which was definitely off the table. So I comforted her and promised to take her out on a date the following day to make up for that episode she had with my mum and to celebrate our wedding anniversary. That night, things didn’t go as planned.

I arrived early from work at about 6pm to pick her up for our special date and at around 7pm we were both dressed and ready to go. I had made a reservation in a wonderful resort at the edge of the city and since it was Friday we decided that we would be spending the night and hoping to make a baby in one of their exquisite suites. So we drove out on a 40mile journey. 10 minutes into the trip, I noticed Sandra wasn’t laughing at my jokes anymore, she became quiet and lukewarm at first and suddenly, she asked me with a soft tone; so you have started chatting with the new bride huh? I was confused at first and then I remembered that Mum had shared my contact on WhatsApp with the lady she wanted me to marry as a second wife during the day and I was trying to be polite so I responded to her messages. Sandra was with my phone and I guess she must have seen a notification from the lady and read the chats. Oh! How stupid I was. I planned telling Sandra but not that night, it was supposed to be about us, just the two of us. 

With a rather harsh tone she asked again “Tope, didn’t you hear me? What is this date about if you already have plans for a replace me?” 

I didn’t want to make any wrong statement that could ruin the whole night so I kept quiet trying to pick the right words to respond in my mind because I knew how Sandra becomes when she is vexed; more reason why I have never pictured cheating on her besides the fact that I love her more than life itself. Just before I could respond, she made a terrible statement;

“Hope you have told your Mum that I am not the problem, she should be considering checking her son too, he has some old books we need to be consult”

I knew she didn’t mean it, she apparently was referring to my past but my ego got in the way of my reasoning so I flared up like a volcano. Not quite long, we started exchanging words, saying a whole lot of things we didn’t mean. I never knew I was going too fast, I didn’t see that bend; I drifted too fast, and before I could regain control of the four runner jeep, it was off the road. We took a dive for valley down the slope of the main road.

                                                               ********

“Where is my wife? Where is Sandra I asked again?” 

“Please sir, calm down, your wife is alive, we manage to safe the three of you but we are hoping for the best concerning you wife, please you need to rest” the doctor responded.

I had a fracture on my left femur and I took a hit to the head, the doctors said I was lucky, the airbag helped. But Sandra didn’t have her seat belt on so she sustained a severe head injury and she was in a coma. Once I got better the doctors allowed me to see her, I would seat beside her bed in her ward everyday praying and hoping she open those pretty eyes once again. The doctors said they save three of us but I didn’t pay attention to the statement until I got better and found out that Sandra was pregnant and she didn’t even know it. I wept, prayed and hoped. In that period, my mum discovered that what we had for each other was more that her prejudice and bias, she had to pray with me and a lot of friends and family also joined the train. 

Two weeks after the incident, Sandra opened her eyes and I was right there to be the first person she will set those pretty eyes on after being tragically shut for weeks. I felt like I got a second chance with her and this time I was willing to stay and fight for and with her no matter what. I was happy to have my wife back and not only that, our child was also on the way. Oh the table turned; a tragedy became a testimony.

                                                                        ****

Doris, My Daughter, is 3years old today and we are expecting her younger sibling. Looking at my beautiful daughter and my very pregnant but extremely beautiful ebony wife, I can’t but reflex on all I could have lost, but all that I have gained instead. That wrong turn, on that highway, one that night years ago, could have been my last. But I had the opportunity to make the right turn even after I made that wrong turn.

Prejudice 2 (Memoir)

Alas! Chaos looms in the air

We dance to the tune of our fears

The pains of losing those who we held dear

Hoping when death arrives, they won’t be there.

My little legs took me fast as they could and I caught up with my fleeing neighbours; they were guys that lived beside our house. I felt they were making the right moves so I followed suit. As the crow flies, in few seconds, we found a perfect hiding spot; it was the house of a neighbour, a Hausa Muslim family. They saw us running so they offered to shield us from the mob who everyone knew was nearby. 

“Come inside, quickly” the woman said, wearing her hijab covered from head to toe, beaconing on us to come into her home. We were all sceptical about her offer, we asked silent questions among ourselves without using words but they were rhetorical, did we have any other choice? We just had a short time to either accept her offer or die trying to flee. She took us in quickly and her daughters directed us to the bathroom, told us to duck, and stay away from the window. Between the time I made the choice of vanishing with my neighbours and the point I got into those ceramic walls in a strange house, I felt it was like a flash, I had no thought precisely, felt nothing in particular, I just knew somehow, we were in our neighbour’s bathroom, about hundred meters from my house with no clue what was going on outside. Sitting down in that bathroom trying to catch my breath, my mind then began to function properly, I could now reminisce. I started to wonder what could happen in the next few hours, will we be safe in here? Will they find us? What about my family, will they be alright? There horror of losing my family began to dawn on my tender mind, tears were the only expression I could show, scared and tormented in my heart, shaking all over yet I had to be quiet.

For a moment, we heard nothing; it was as if the who quarters became a graveyard, not a sound from the birds tweeting, or the gentle waves of the tress. No! It was dead silent for a moment; it was like nature was watching to see what comes next. In minutes the silence was broken with a shout, it wasn’t chorused like before, they was individual voices calling out to people specifically, they would shout and you could hear various smashing in all directions. They were forcing themselves into houses, destroying properties they could find and desperately searching for the occupants of the houses they broke into.

It continued for several minutes and as time flew; my mind was drifting in all directions. I was scared to death. Not knowing if my family was still alive added more to the pressure. They were out to kill and we didn’t know if anyone could stop them, we just waited and hoped. We could hear the footsteps outside the bathroom, in the isle, our host moving around their normal duties to avoid suspicion but we were still suspicious of them somehow, they could give us up, they were of the same kin. During conflicts like this, you don’t know who to trust.

After over 30 minutes in hiding, there was a turn of event, several gunshots outside, the atmosphere changed and the noise increased. We could hear people running in different directions. Everyone in the bathroom was asking questions, you could see that in our eyes, “Do they have guns? If they do, this doesn’t sound good” someone just had to peep through the window to know what was happening outside, he needed to be careful. Lo and behold, it was not what we thought, there were soldiers outside. Apparently, someone had called the incident in and they moved in as a swift response to the issue before anyone got hurt. Deliverance was outside but I wasn’t satisfied, I was still scared, what if they were still outside and we come out and get mobbed? My little mind wondered. The face of everyone in was lit up but I was still unsure about what happened before the soldiers arrived, what happened to my family. 

“You can come out now, the army is outside, Ku ji ko? (Have you heard)” said the sweet voice of the girl outside the door of the bathroom with her Hausa accent. 

“It’s alright lets go outside” said the eldest person among us, trying to assure us and himself that it was fine to come out from hiding.

We came out to a different kind of atmosphere; there was smoke from a distance and solders all around, with guns in their hands. We waited for some minutes and a coaster bus arrived to take us away. I didn’t know where we were being transported to and I still couldn’t see my family members, just neighbours who were hiding in other neighbours houses during the siege. Not quite long, I saw my Mum, Dad and my two sisters, at that moment, nothing else mattered, not the fact that my heart had be beating so fast that I thought it would force its way through my rib cage or the fact that I had pictures in my head of them; dead, and I alone as an orphan, taken back south with tears from the north. It was a joyous moment seeing families alive once more.

 As we got transported with the bus having a convoy of scary looking soldiers, I found out what the smoke from the distance was when we got to the front of our house. It was Dad’s car, they attacked our house majorly for no reason I can clearly state till date but I know they were calling out for my Dad.

“Auditor!!!!!!”  They kept yelling, according to my dad. 

Luckily they got out, my Mum also didn’t buy Dad’s idea so instead of remaining indoors; they fled at the last minute to our immediate neighbour’s house. They hid in her bedroom while she stayed at the door preventing them from coming into her house to search for them

According to the Hausa culture, once the husband of the house isn’t at home, you are not allowed, as a Man, to come into the house and intrude on the woman’s privacy. Her husband for some reason unknown, left home that morning before all the attacks and so did several other men too. That cultural norm came in handy and saved my family from the blood thirsty folks who kept searching our house destroying anything they could lay their hands on. Before they were interrupted buy the soldiers. Since they couldn’t find anyone they decided to destroy the house, set the car ablaze and contemplated burning the house but they knew it wasn’t our house, and besides, what point will it make if they set a government property ablaze.

We got to the gate and found out that one of the attackers was killed, his body as picked up by the soldiers at the other side of the fence, that was the first time I saw a dead body up close. As we kept moving I wondered where they were taking us to, I didn’t ask, I just waited for the suspense. Everyone was looking calm but I knew they were scared as we moved away from the city to the outskirts; seeing various scenes of destroyed properties by the road sides. Soon we arrived at the Barrack; it was now obvious that we were to become refugees for the next couple of weeks. We live in certain apartments in the barracks and we all had to live as a family with the rest of the rescued.

For two weeks we lived as refugees, got used to hearing gunshots from several distance and near. Inside the walls of the barrack, it was safe even though there were guns around and restrictions, but it was better than back home. Families were separated for those periods but it was worth it, we stayed alive.... 

After two weeks and some days as refugees, we returned back to the quarters, the riot had subsided and we had to get used to the new reality. We moved back to our house after the place was fixed to make it habitable again. A lot of our property had being destroyed but it didn’t matter, we had ourselves. While at the barrack, my eldest sister was brought there and she and other students who had exams then were transported carefully to write their papers. Feeling safe again was difficult, we found it hard to do, and any sound at night would create a panic in our hearts. About a week after we got back to our house, there were fresh rumours that something was being plotted again to re-kindle the flame of the conflict so Dad and Mom finally made a tough decision, it was time to leave the north for good and go back home, it was time to return to our families back in the south, Ibadan was the perfect destination.

Oh! I can still remember that morning when we had to say goodbye to what we had known as our home and hope for a better life; far better than what we had in the north. We were on their way back to the south.

                                                           ***********

                                                            Ibadan (present day)

We had to adapt to a new life, a new reality in a new environment. We have our lives. Starting a new life away from the nightmare we awoke from wasn’t easy but we had God’s help, we still do. But in all that happened we learnt a lesson; life is the most important asset a man has and in that moment, when you have lost all, you know that family is everything you need once you are still alive. We still have friends up north, some we’ve lost contact with and others are gone. Now in my early twenties, looking back through the window of time; memories of almost 13years down the line, I know that we are still standing for a reason even despite all the PREJUDICE!

                                                   (The END)

Prejudice (A Memoir)

 All events were written to the best of the writer's knowledge subject to corrections from close family and friend who were eye witnesses. 

Based on true events...
                                                         (Ibadan 2004)
 

“Bawo ni journey yin? Hope it was not stressful” my grandma and aunties kept asking and a couple of folks from my dad’s family, welcoming us home, receiving what was remaining of us from several years apart. 

My eyes was wide open for several nights, when the night was voiceless, my heart would skip or pound faster each time I heard a sound, a thud from the hunter’s gun in the dead of the night, it was more like a post traumatic experience. I know my sisters felt the same too, and probably everyone of us including my parents had a share of nights like that; A sudden flashback of the horrors in our recent past. We lost friends, people who we loved dearly, those who we thought would be a part of our lives as far as time would take us but they were consumed by the flames of hate- hate crimes committed by neighbours we smiled at each day, People we so ignorantly called friends or should I say Aboki (in Hausa). That May and the periods that proceeds it, contained memories that will forever define who we are as a family and our lives individually in the long run.

                                                          Kano state (2004)

I and my three siblings were born in Kano state, a northern state in Nigeria. We originated from the South-western part of Nigeria, Yorubas in short. Dad got a federal government job in the late 80s and off he went, up north, with his newly wedded wife, My Mum, so as at 2004, my parent had been in Kano state for roughly 16years. According to them, we moved into the federal government quarters I grew up in 1995, I was a kid then. The quarters was home to us, a natural environment with trees and beautiful vegetation which you wouldn’t believe that you could find in a climate like that. The quarters was built from that purpose; majorly research in forestry and my dad was an auditor in that government cooperation, a very secure job in a very secured-serene environment; A safe haven. The quarters was fenced roundabout to avoid intruders and it was indeed a paradise but not until 2004.

Several years prior, major conflicts had broken out in the state; usually caused by tribal or religious prejudice, leaving in its wake, a trail of tears, blood and hate. The Hausas were the predominant tribe in the state, and were also Muslims who looked for every avenue to enforce their religious and cultural views on anyone who isn’t of their tribe or faith, so the igbos and Yorubas; especially those who were Christian often became primary targets. These riots happened at intervals and the origin was usually shady as the exact number of the casualties which often ran into thousands. The media wasn’t always accurate.

We lived through these crisis because the quarters we lived in was a federal government property and it was always protect one way or the other so we just closed our eyes and let the horrors pass and open our eyes to the rise of the new day’s sun forgetting the horrors the moon brought and days after these conflicts, we only hear tales about them, But in May 2004, all that changed.

Rumours travelled with the wind, they were seldom false, it is no joke when the Hausa man threatened to spill blood, and he always had a cause and a clause he would repeat to justify his so called- Jihad. when it seemed right to fight, he does; he fights for Allah he says, a holy war, but it’s no war when you murder the helpless in cold blood an unjust massacre; simply put- a genocide.

The morning was bright just like any other day in that strange land, we lived in a community rich in nature and a vibrant inter-cultural co-habitation. It was a weekday so off we went;  me and my siblings to school, and dad and mum were off to work.  Rumours had been looming about a riot outbreak but much attention wasn’t paid to it. Not until that evening when it got more intense- schools closed unusually early so I and my sibling were home early save my Eldest sibling, My sister, she was no were to be found. When mum and dad got home in the evening, the whole city of Kano was already in turmoil and we could hear explosions for a close distance. 

“They are already in Kabuga, that’s what I hear people say. B.U.K isn’t safe anymore” Dad said when he got home, and he suddenly asked mum. 

“Bunmi da? Shey ko ti de ni?” dad said, requesting to know my sister’s whereabouts from my mum who was totally confused. They tried reaching her school but it was difficult to do so. As at 2004 only few people had their own cell phones, making it difficult to contact anyone once you can’t find them around. My missing sister was in SS3 then and she was writing her SSCE exams before the conflict broke out and that faithful day, she had a paper in the afternoon. Her school was the staff school of Bayero University Kano, located right in the heart of one of the campuses of the university. Conflicts rarely drift to this part of the city but this one was different so we all were agitated and chaos was all over the atmosphere. Soon dusk was upon us and my parent finally contacted someone who knew my sister’s whereabout, she was save and in a lecturer’s house, that brought relieve to all of us for the night.

The night was loud, desert wind brought the whispers of the dead the violence of the day quenched. Voices of threatens-threatens to consume us in the morrow. They were no threats; they were promises for the next, things when south quickly barely 24hours after the pointless killings started.

At 7: am the morning was quiet, you could think the previous day was just a nightmare, but it wasn’t, my eldest sister wasn’t back home yet. Mom was fixing breakfast, we all were trying to adapt to this compulsory siege we found ourselves in. It was just some minutes past 8 on the am side that word around came to our door steps informing us that the horrors didn’t go with the night, it was right outside our gates. They were at the east gate, the gate will hold we said, comforting ourselves that; “all will be fine” how wrong could we have been? The gate did hold for a while and we could hear loud cries of range and blood thirty desires of our immediate neighbours, a mob of villagers who lived just outside the walls of the quarters. The chants got louder and deafening by the minute, and at around 10am, the gates betrayed everyone who lived inside the walls. From a distance like a raining night roar- a thud, loud and clear- telling us that death was on its way. They matched in with a shout, coming for nothing but the blood of the innocent.

Back at home, we knew the gate was down and they were in, their ETA was minutes, we had few minute before we meet our tragic and brutal end, the next decision was crucial. Death announced its arrival so we had to make a quick decision to cheat it. Lo and behold, dad made a decision that I didn’t agree with, being child at that time, I could see clearly that it was wrong: He wanted us to stay indoors and lock the doors. I don’t blame him; he was trying to keep his family together. Locking a glass door with aluminium support didn’t seem like a smart choice to prevent folks with axes and machetes from gaining entrance into the house so I made my own decision that day. Our neighbours were running and without thinking twice, my legs got busy. I didn’t know what I was doing, I just ran where the boys ran towards as fast as I could, leaving my family to their fate.

 To be continued.....