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.....

 

Chika's Last Call

Chika was different; he wasn’t like the rest of us. I couldn’t control the tears dripping from my eyes that Saturday morning when I dropped the call, my heart kept pounding fast like a brigadier’s drum....

  

It was my sophomore year in college and I had two close friends, they were like my mama’s sons to me.  Our course mates called us the musketeers but I and chike were referred to as the twin evil of macro economics. I was inflation and he was unemployment. We argued a lot about academic issues but we agreed on any other areas of life. Seun was always neutral when we argued. He simply says; 

“Femi and Chika” with a calm voice , grips us both on our shoulders while trying to maintain eye contact with us simultaneously “you are right, you guys are both right”. We would stare at him for a second, just hiss and that will end the whole argument. Whenever he does it, it always worked. He called that the argument terminating trick. We shared our lives together, as though making a promise never to keep secrets from each other but we soon realized that Chika became a closed book that couldn’t be open nor read from its covers. We tried making him talk more about personal issues but he was emotionally numb. There was a time he would talk and tell us things but he just became an emotional “dead-end” after several attempts to reach out. We began to grow apart over time, I and Femi were still tight but Chika became distant and we gradually became strangers over the passage of time, especially when he decided to move to a separate apartment saying he wanted more space.

In our third year, Chika’s name was all over the department. In the first semester, he had straight As in all his course, that was when we noticed that he had only had two Bs throughout his studentship and for a moment I had this awkward feeling of joy and sadness at the same time, I couldn’t explain it. I felt that was why he kept his distance so that he could study more and maintain his impeccable grades. I and Femi were probably becoming a distraction to the poor boy after all. So as time passed the issue vanished into the rhythm of the seasons and soon we were in our final year and that was when clarity came uponto the past issue that had gone dark with time. 

On that faithful Saturday morning, I was having a shower after returning from my early morning workout. My phone began to ring but I could only hear the faint sound from the loud splashing sound of the water from the shower. As soon as I was done, I quickly went to where the phone was and picked it. There were five missed calls from an unknown number. It must be pretty urgent for the person to have kept dialling my number I thought. So I called back but the number was switched off and before I could drop it, it had switched to the voice mall so I said; 

“Whoever this is, maybe you should call back when you are back on” as I dropped the call, I had a kind of  ‘Dejavu’ a sort of feeling I was familiar with. I had that feeling when my Mum passed away five years prior but I couldn’t explain why I had the feeling nor what it meant so I forgot it and cleaned up, turned up a little music to ease up the tension. After an hour and a moment after the music stopped due to a power outage, I heard the phone ring again. I was motionless for a second because as I heard it ring, my heart stated beating fast and the same aura I had an hour before came upon me. It was very strange feeling that way about my phone ringing but I still approached the table where it was with a pseudo confidence and I discovered when I picked the phone from the table that it was the same number.

 “Hello” I said as I picked up the call, stuttering a bit, still wondering what was going on with me.

“Who is this?” the voice responded. I could hear whispers from the background but I couldn’t quite pick any word from all the rumblings.

“You called me, didn’t you?” I responded.

“NO! You called this number and we saw got your voicemail, anyways that doesn’t matter... Do you know any Mr Chika Emmanuel? I think he is a student of the university, Economics department, Judging from his ID card” 

Now my heart stated to beat faster, I was forcing my head not to go in all the wrong directions but deep down my gut I knew what could have happened and I didn’t want to believe it.

“Errm, Yes, I know him, he is my classmate. What happened to him?”

“We found the body some minutes ago; I guess he was dumped here. I’m afraid, he is dead” 

As I heard that statement, my head started to spin; I had no verbal reaction, just tears, which came out fast- so rapid. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; the phone had slipped off my hand. I lost my grip and my balance; I hit the floor in tears. I couldn’t control the tears dripping from my eyes that Saturday morning when I dropped the call, my heart kept pounding fast like a brigadier’s drum.... 

Soon I got another call, and this time, it was the police. I was invited latter that day to the station and that was when the entire picture became clear. Chika’s parent got separated around the time he stopped talking.  His mom left, abandoning him and his sister with their unemployed dad. It seemed she became frustrated being the bread winner of the house for so long. His dad wasn’t educated so he couldn’t get a real job. He eventually died while trying to do an illegal business to cater for his children. They got the money from their dad’s illegal trade and that was how he could continue school and get another apartment and somehow I guess he made up his mind no to end up like his dad but the sorrow of his loss had pierced his soul. Even though he was doing well academically, he was failing socially and emotionally; he got involved in a lot of problems. His sister latter explained how she tried to make him come back to his senses and he shut her out as well. Chika took a shot to his pelvic and one to his left arm the police never found out what really happened or who was responsible. Even though I hate the fact that he never thought that I could be there for him as a friend when he needed me the most, I still felt while he was dying and in that bush where he was dumped, he summoned the last strength in him to make that call, to say what exactly? I really can’t say. All I know is that I missed the most important call of my life, Chika’s Last call!

                                                            (THE END)

HoneyMoon Shack

Maybe it was my fault entirely from the very beginning, maybe I was selfish or maybe I just wanted that adventure more than my willingness to sacrifice my desire for hers; I can’t tell. I just hated myself for everything. They say; “the older you grow, the more you understand that relationship is more than just holding of hands “; True! But I leant that the hard way years ago.

Falling in love with my dream girl was all I had ever wished for and Debbie was more than I could wish for when I blow my birthday candles. One that very day, I went down on one knee and said:

“Life has been so beautiful for me ever since you walked into it two years ago in that Christmas party. Prior to that day, I always felt I was happy but I was wrong; loving you everyday has taken me into a realm of unsearchable happiness and joy I had never thought about. You complete me in every facet and I keep wondering what life would have been like without you. Babe, I want to wake up every day and this face will be the only expression of life I will see as the sun rises on it and exposes the immeasurable beauty God has deposited in a mortal being. The only way I can make this possible is by asking you from the depth of my soul to give up your last name and pick mine up. Deborah Awujobi, will you marry me and be the only mother of my children?” 

She was motionless and in tears all throughout my rehearsed proposal speech and she couldn’t help but say;

“Yes, a thousand times Yes, I will marry you Dan”

My face lighted up as a thunderous applaud rose in the hall where I just interrupted a dinner. I rose up and slip the silver ring I was holding into her finger and she kissed me with so much elan that I had never seen in her. 

Deborah which I often called Debbie was a sweet young lady, not has adventurous as I was but she always respected my opinion about things and I sure wasn’t in any doubt about getting married to a lady with so much humility and character and soon after that proposal, she kept to her promise and married me in from of five hundred guest including family and friends. All my family members and friends said I made a good pick; of course that was evident because her beauty was one of a kind and her character; Impeccable. 

We seldom argue about issues but one Issue was a bone of contention before we got married and that was the location for our honey moon. She wanted the usual: a hotel with luxurious stuffs and a well furnish room. I on the other hand was a bit too ambitious. I wanted my grandpa’s Shack somewhere off civilization. I felt it was going to be romantic; just me and her, no friends nor family around and no one in particular only if special services were needed. The shack was quite a distance from the city and isolated beside a lake, so I thought it was the perfect spot for our honeymoon, just like the movies. So after much persuasion, she reluctantly agreed and I won! I just wish I never won that argument. Oh! I wish...

I had the place renovated a bit, some weeks before our wedding, and immediately after the reception; we drove 50miles to our honeymoon location into a prepared home for two. My bestman, Lex, was our driver for that day and on getting to the Shack, he left us and found his way back to the city. That night we had passionate sex; something I waited for all throughout our courtship for two years. It was all that I imagined, all that I bargained for. She was finally my wife and I was too happy for words to quantify. We slept in each other’s arms through the night and I woke up with so much love vibes all over my being and quickly fixed a meal for her. She opened her eyes to a bouquet and smiled with so much adoration for me. I could tell that she felt on top of the world. I felt out of this world. 

“Last night was sensational” I said. She blushed and said;

“Naughty boy, you were a beast last night” I leered at her and she said;

“Go away joor!” and we both laughed about it. After breakfast we went for another round of vigorous sex and this time, she was voracious. After a short rest, we headed out to the lake and both sat by the water, we talked, joked about the wedding and all the dance steps we saw. We laughed, kissed, and played a little bit and before we knew it, the day was far spent. So we headed back to the Shack. 

One our way down the path that led to our temporary home, I noticed that something wasn’t right as we walked between the trees just some meters to the Shack. I paused and looked back but saw nothing. Debbie looked me in the face while holding my hand with a firm grip and said;

“Is anything the matter?” she said inquisitively 

“I have this strange feeling that we are being followed” being a little bit apprehensive she responded;

“Followed? You know we haven’t seen anyone out in this woods since we got here so I don’t think there is anyone out there, I guess”

I could sense fear in her voice so I decided to let my instinct pass and held her close while we proceeded back to the Shack. Soon the sun was setting and we both watched sitting on a wooden rocking chair with her head careful placed on my broad chest and my fingers running through her hair like a plough in a fine soil as I whispered sweet nonsense into her ears and she laughed uncontrollably to my words. Soon it was dark and we had to go to bed after we had dinner. We said goodnight, joked a bit and soon fell asleep. 

At about 1am I suddenly woke up, my eyes were heavy but still I had this weird feeling all over me that I couldn’t explain. I didn’t want to wake Debbie up so I walked to the living room and turned on the light. Everything was fine so I turned it off. I was about to head back to the bedroom when I heard a noise outside like a Old radio set trying to pick up a faint signal. I tried to turn on the light and it didn’t come up, the whole power in the building was gone. That was strange because, the generator powering the building was supposed to be up throughout the night, it was well fueled. as I was still trying to phantom what was going on, I started hearing Male voices outside the door and what appeared to be a couple of light ray in front of the building, that was when it dawned on me that we were under an attack. I ran back to the room and woke Debbie. She quickly regained consciousness and we found somewhere to hide in the Conner of the room. The building was surrounded so we couldn’t make our exit. We just remain fixed at the Conner of the room holding each other so tight. Soon they began to call out for us;

“Come out! We know you are inside, we saw you during the day”

I whispered to my wife;

“My instinct was right; I knew someone was following us” 

“They started hitting the wooding door with so much force that after about 30seconds, the door betrayed us and they were in. 

“You better come out on your own because if we fish you out, it won’t be funny”

So after listening to the threats for some minutes I whispered to my wife, 

“they probably just want money, let us just give them and I’m sure they will leave us” 

with a shaky voice she said;

“Are you sure?” I nodded in affirmation. Just as we were about to come out from hiding, they opened the door to the room and found us;

“There you are” and the rest of them came into the room like a pack of hungry predators. Before I could say a word, a tall guy among-st them stepped forward and hit me on the forehead; I remember hitting the floor and I passed out for probably some minutes; when I was becoming conscious again, I could hear screams in the dark, I couldn’t move my hand or legs, I was being held back and as the screams became louder I knew what was going on. My darling Debbie was being Raped by unknown faces. I began to shout with the little strength I had left, my heart was pounding fast in fury as I heard them take turns and ripped the love of my life apart bit by bit; her scream reduced at a point and I knew she had exhausted all her strength on the struggle with those men. I was powerless and I hated myself for that. The one I sworn to protect was being ripped apart and I was helpless.

After some minute, I guess they were all done; I could hear them say:

“That babe is sweet mehn! This chap has been having all this fun to himself? He is selfish”

One of the walked up to me, held my head with his hand and I went blank again”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                        ************

My head was heavy as I felt the sun ray reflect on my face signifying the dawn of the new day. I couldn’t move my body at first because it was aching all over. Adjacent were I was lying was my wife barely moving and trying to mutter some words. I soon started remembering what had happened during the night and my soul was engulfed with pain and rage all at the same time. I was angry at myself not the men that attacked us. She was right; we should have stayed in the city. I wanted something that wasn’t cliche and I got the Unusual. 

I tried to call for help some minutes later with her phone that I guess the attackers didn’t notice even though it was laying obviously on the floor. I crawled to where she was and held her by the hand and said;

“Help is on its Way” she was looking pale and dishearten. She winked and passed out.

Soon the ambulance arrived and we were taken to the hospital. I kept blaming myself that I messed it all up. My honeymoon, it was supposed to be perfect; it wasn’t meant to be this way.

Police report later revealed the attackers were people from the city. They must have being tipped by someone who still remain unknown till today and amazingly, they didn’t take anything from the shack that day; they only every from me; my wife’s bride. They ripped her apart.

Debbie almost gave up on life after the incident. She underwent several therapy seasons and medical examinations; she became suicidal and I don’t blame her. It was my entire fault; my love was the only healing she needed. For weeks after the attack, I couldn’t stand seeing her. Her presence brought memories; hurtful memories that I was trying to overcome. But amidst all, I had to forgive myself and ultimately began to process of receiving her again as she was prior that attack. It was hard and that was when I learnt to love indeed, not when roses were blue and all was well but when her tears flowed from the present into an unpleasant past and then I fully understood that love is more than just holding of hands. Love is sacrifice, and I was willing to sacrifice all for her. And that was all that mattered.

                                                            (The End)