KILL OR BE KILLED OR DIE RUNNING

Dear readers, I write this post with a heavy heart.

I live in Nigeria, West Africa where there are no natural disasters, where there is an abundance of vegetation and animal life, where the weather is just right and sadly where most of the people are living in limbo.

In my state, Plateau, there have been numerous killings by people, the media and government call “unknown gunmen”. We very much KNOW who they are. Recently there were some killings .  The brutality (WARNING EXTREMELY GRAPHIC AND NOT FOR THE FAINTHEARTED), was just heartbreaking and it makes me furious that this killings happened to innocent individuals.

It is not the first time that these killings are occurring. Some times we hear 2 dead, a village got attacked and 10 people were killed, blah blah blah…until the recent killings which claimed the lives of one hundred people or more.

The normal response that occurs first by the government is:

“we condemn these heinous crimes…”

“We commiserate with the victims”

After a day of two of everybody making noise, life goes back to normal…until the next killing.

Today my mum and I were at work and after a stressful day came back home. We were almost ready to sleep, trying to reboot our tired and exhausted selves only for a phone call to come in by 9:15PM (21:15)-an hour and a few minutes ago – from our neighbor to tell us that there is news of a meeting going on by herdsmen to attack our neighborhood. That is not what even angers me. What angers me the most is that most of the people living here heard about it earlier and ran away from the neighborhood with their families and left very few behind. What does that speak of us?

I go back to the title now and ask again because there is a thin line between morality and moralstupidity: “Kill or be killed or die running”.

 

 

I just needed to get this off my chest. It is not time for me to die and I know it because there is a lot left for me to do. I am also super bummed that I can’t practice my guitar tonight. Gotta keep my ears clear but I WILL practice my chinese…less noisy 😉

Night Night All! And I’ll let you know I’m alive tomorrow! Which I very much will be.

Through her Innocent Eyes

The following story you are about to read is my form of research. This is the best way I can address real life issues and it works for me. It is about the terrorism in my country…Nigeria. Their brutal methods and lack of humanity.

Guns, fire, machetes, loud cries, popping sounds, blood! Blood everywhere! What is happening? I see them in their hundreds. Some are on foot while others are on bikes. They are everywhere! Where is mother and father? They said they would protect me! Where are they?!  I need them! My little brother and sister are wailing! I can’t attend to them now… I need to run.

It was peaceful this morning. I and my friends went to pluck mangoes from our neighbour’s orchard and he chased us with a very long stick. We were laughing but we still got the mangoes. They were very delicious. Daddy bought me a lollipop although mother is always against me taking sugar. They worked it out though…

O no! I can’t run. They are here. Two of them. They are dressed in dirty trousers and torn shirts. They have shawls wrapped around their necks and their heavy boots are dusty. Both of them have guns and bullets wrapped around their bodies. There are knives on their belts.

I don’t know whether to be scared or not. My hands are shaking and my sister and brother won’t stop crying. One of them go to the mattress where my siblings are. He picks my brother up. No! Mama said to take care of him! He removes his knife and…

I see blood! More blood! My feet are numb. I can’t move. I don’t understand… My brother he’s not crying anymore neither is my sister. I am half happy that the annoying noise has stopped and half scared. What does it mean?? They are about to leave but one of them brings out a matchbox and creates fire. I don’t like fire. One time I put my hand in a candle flame and it hurt. I see my mother rushing in. I want to go to her but the other one seizes her by her veil.

“We will keep this one eh…” He laughs and injures her with his knife.

There is fire everywhere… I can’t stand it. I run out of the house and into the hands of the man. My mother…she sees me. She is crying. I want to go to her. The other one slaps me! Father is the only one allowed to slap me! I beat him back but he laughs wickedly. He releases me and I run to mother.

They have put us in the back of a truck. I can’t see anything. They put a cloth around my eyes. Are we playing hide and seek? Is this a game? I don’t like this game.  The journey is long and tiring. Finally! It has stopped. My eyes hurt! The sunlight is sharp and intense. They are pushing me and mother. I see other people. Some are looking so thin. Oh my! Where is that old man’s legs… What are they doing to him. Pop! He’s lying still now. My mother… she covers my eyes.  I want to bathe, I am hungry.

It is two days now and I have not eaten or bathed. I heard mother screaming yesterday. She made me promise to close my eyes so I couldn’t see why she was screaming. When I opened them, I saw her at the corner. She was praying. Her clothes were torn and her face was bruised.

I am in a car now. I don’t know where they are taking me. It is very hot and they beat me for complaining about the Hijab they made me wear. My mother screamed as she watched me go. I don’t know why she was screaming. They said that if I did what they said, I could go home with mama back to daddy, but if I didn’t, they would make mama cry. The thing they’ve wrapped around me is poking my belly and arms. It is too heavy but I will do what they want so they can take me back home. Then I will play with my friends in the stream and steal apples from my neighbour’s orchard. Then go to school and read those books with nice little pictures in them.

I come down from the car and go to where the market stall is. They are watching me. They said to look for where people are. I see them. I see small people like me laughing. I see big people watching a football match. I see women doing their hair. O how I hate doing my hair… Boom!!!!

This is now the terrorists M.O. Using small children mostly girls as suicide bombers. I have no idea what leads to it though. This is just how I imagine it happening. This week a ten year old girl was arrested after being caught wearing a suicide vest under her Hijab.

Reality hurts.