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.....