My Longest Day - July 6th, 1967

Image Source

I lived with my parents and siblings in Kano state, Nigeria even tho the southern state of Akwa Ibom was our state of origin and dad never failed to enlighten us on the ways of the south as Kano is a northern state. It was a small family of four, my father was a trader in the nearby local market, mother didn't work external jobs as she assumed the role of a full time house wife which was common practice as men were seen as the sole providers in this time, my elder brother was a fresh man student at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria and was rarely home as he lived in the school dormitory, I was a primary school student of the Abu Goverment Grammer School, kano.

It was my 10th birthday, I had left school early in anticipation of celebrations as mother had promised to give me a birthday I would not forget for finishing top of my class in the previous term. I had noticed some irregularities on my way home but they didn't bother me as I was engrossed with imaginations of what mother had prepared for her favorite child. I opened the door loudly, screaming mummy as I walked happily towards the kitchen as it was natural to find her there most times when I got home from school.

I received no reply and noticed the only sound I heard in the house came from fathers radio and this was so odd as father would normally be in his store by this time. I made way for the sitting room where the sound came from and just as I walked in , mama ran towards me and hugged me, dragging me closer to father who couldn't take his ears off the radio. It was an address from a popular voice I recognized as the head of state. I couldn't fully comprehend all that he said but immediately he ended, dad told mum that we had to leave the north as he left his store because two Igbo traders were murdered that morning after a heated argument and with this announcement it might get worse.

The topic of our social studies class flashed before me at this point and I rushed to ask my mother if a civil war had broken out in our country, mother didn't know what a civil war was, as she married dad at the age of sixteen and knew so little about anything that didn't involve taking care of her family. Father hurriedly replied me with a yes, he said the eastern region had declared itself to be an independent state and the federal government cannot have that and it was going to use force to ensure that the nation stayed as one.

Dad was never a lover of the government and often criticized the northerners for monopolizing the government and making decisions without involving other regions, I remember him having a heated arguments with a trader a few weeks earlier about the government creating twelve more states without the consent of other regions except the north and predicted that it would result in anarchy, the trader told dad to pack his things and go back to the east if he didn't love the north. Dad had to remind him that he was from the south and an Ibibio man, not an Igbo man. They considered everyone who wasn't a northerner as Igbo and to avoid explanations, most people would accept it, but dad never did, he was always firm about his Identity.

A civil war had broken out, dad told mum to pack our things and meet him at the motor pack while he runs to Ahmadu Bello University (ABU), Zaria to pick my elder brother so we would be on our way to our state before things got out of hand. He hadn't even opened the door when an elderly woman, unclad from her waist down came banging and screaming at the door. The fear in her voice didn't let dad open the door immediately , she kept screaming '"they have killed my junior and they are coming". Who was coming? dad asked trying to sound manly without panicking while he opened the door to let her in. Crying uncontrollably she said the northerners considered all Igbos as traitors and are going on a killing spree to ensure that all Igbo's are dead. I could hear mother scream "The blood of Jesus" while dad tried to get the elderly lady some first aid treatment.

In few minutes the whole neighborhood was in chaos, we could hear explosions from the adjoining streets accompanied with sounds that sounded like an army charging towards an enemy, only that this time it was one sided with people running for their life's but we still had no sight of the attackers. Father carried me on his shoulder and told mum to forget about the bags and carry all the money she could find. I remember him tell mum that he would ensure we get to the motor park safe and be on our way, while he rushed to the university to get my elder brother and they would join us as soon as he found him. The elder lady refused to join us, saying she had no reason to live if her Junior wasn't living, just as we turned to leave, she used the scissors from the first aid kit to slit her wrist, father covered my face to protect me from the sight, I had seen it all. But it was only the first lifeless body I would see that day.

We left the house and began running in the opposite direction of chaos, but we seemed to hear the sounds of agony from both sides of every road we entered, I was terrified and so was mother, but father had a certain calm, I think he needed it to take us to safety. As we ran we heard a car speed behind us as though it was about to hit us out of existence from behind. Father and mother doubled their heels but still couldn't outrun the vehicle, it drove past us with so much speed but stopped a few meters away, It was my school principal. He was Hausa, he invited us to hurriedly join his car so he could take us out of the affected area to the park so we could be on our way home. Dad explained his plan to drop us at the park, head to the university to get his son, then join his family to which he agreed to help dad to the school but dad would have to hide in his trunk.

I had never seen a thing like it in my twelve years of existence, buses leaving the park where filled to the brim with people as tho they where piles of yam and the crowd waiting to board the buses left us wondering if we would get any bus to carry us. Father approached one of the bus drivers who he recognized as an Akwa Ibom man to help him, he used the Ibibio language to persuade the driver who later gave in to the plea of his tribes man, father had sworn never to play the tribal card as he always considered it as one of the factors that tore the country apart, but this was a day even covenants would be broken. The price for the journey was four times the actual price and would consume all the money father had which he hoped could carter for the whole family.

Mother and I boarded the bus, parked like sardine in a can, father kissed mother deeply from the open window, he stretched his hand to rub my head as I sat on mothers laps, he told me to be strong and take care of mother as he was going to get brother and would see us soon. Streams of hot tears rolled down our eyes as our bus left the park, father waving at us as tho he would miss us for eternity until our bus was out of sight.

Surprisingly, the journey home was smooth although we could see Nigerian soldiers in their vehicles packed with weapons heading for the east, they didn't bother us, I guess it was only the beginning. Father never came with brother as he promised, mother spent the two years the war lasted praying for an end so she could go back to Kano state to search for dad and her first born son. Everyday I sat outside grand pa's house stirring at the gate in hopes that I would see father and brother walk in. I would Imagine running to hug them then pour out the so many questions I had to ask.

The war came to an end, the radio said thousands of Igbos were killed in the north, I guess dad and brother were included in those numbers because we never saw them again. Mother would always remind me of fathers qualities and how she hopes I grow to be like him, every time she needed heavy weights lifted she would remember brother and might spend the next few hours crying. I miss father and brother so much, but am sure she misses them more.

N/B This story is purely fiction based on the events of the civil war that lasted between 1967 - 1970. Its aimed at showing the needlessness of a war and the anarchy that looms as results of war. Nigeria is currently experiencing similar events that led to the Biafra war. Millions lost their lives for this cause which in my opinion wasn't worth it. Other ways should be sort out to solve our National grievances and not the use of force or war.