It was a long day; I was exhausted, sweaty and itchy. I had trekked from Orile to mile 2 for so many reasons at a time. There was no fuel, there were no buses, the buses available were extremely expensive. People had to fight and struggle before getting into a bus. After staying at the bus stop for close to 1 and a half hour without getting a bus, I decided to trek. I got home really late that night, angry at everything, angry at the government, angry with world, and angry at fate. As I approached my house darkness welcomed me, there had been a complete blackout in my area for 3 weeks.
There was no fuel at the filling stations and the black marketers sold at a very expensive price. I could no longer hold back my anger. I started cursing and swearing at the government. My dad overheard me while I approached the sitting room and he asked me what the matter was. Out of vexation I naively thought and said “I hate the way everything has turned out, we voted wrongly, this wasn’t what we were promised perhaps war might be the way out” My dad smiled and said to me, “Nne, sit down there is something I must tell you.
He flashed the torch light at my face; to be sure I wasn’t cursing and fuming anymore. Then he started. He looked into the space, I saw the pain in his eyes, as well as the pain in his voice as he trailed off, memories came back in a flash and he started, “we were hungry, we had no food. The war was persistent and it went on and on. There were 9 of us in number. Papa and mama made us 11. Biafra war started in July 6th 1967 and surprisingly it stretched to January 15th 1970. Our father Ojukwu saw the act of the creation of state by decree ‘without consultation’ as the last straw that broke the camel’s back and he declared the region an independent state of ‘Biafra’”.
I looked at him in admiration as he spoke. I marveled at the wisdom with which he spoke. He had no certificate but he spoke better than some with accumulated degrees and masters. “The war seemed to be on our side at the beginning. He continued. “One of our brothers the one you know as Papa Uchenna was one of Biafra soldiers. I took food to him every day at the soldier’s camp. The distance to get to the camp ground was like Festac town to CMS or even more. I trekked to and fro to take him food everyday till one day there was nothing to take to papa Uchenna. Awolowo stopped the passage of food into the eastern region. He said that was the weapon to use against the enemy. The whole village starved. We all had kwashiorkor in our family.” He voice shook as he spoke, “two of my siblings died of hunger. Their stomachs were so big and swollen that they couldn’t see the ground and their heads so big that they couldn’t move it. His voice shook more audibly this time, “the next day, they died. The hunger persisted. Mama nnukwu(grandma) started to cook geckos and lizards for us to eat. There were no salts to cook with. The food was tasteless. We cooked yams with the back to avoid wastage. We started to cook and eat rats too. Everything became food. Soon the geckos, rats and lizard ran away from the homes to the bush to live, because they discovered we ate them.” I opened my mouth in disgust as I heard him say these. He heaved a shaky sigh and he continued. Soon Awolowo got external aids from foreign countries, and they attacked us with helicopters. Firing us with bullets from the skies. They destroyed any house they set eyes on. Whenever we heard the sound of the helicopters approaching, we used palm fronts and palm leaves to cover the roofs so that it doesn’t appear like a house. We all fled our homes into the bush. We stayed in the bush for days without food. It went on and on, fathers died, children died, most people lost all their children during the war. No heir to continue their name and that was how those families were forgotten. Loved ones were lost. During the war people died more from hunger than from the war itself. Then, we started to regret why Biafra was declared. Each day a wail will be heard from one house announcing another death. Finally the war was called off, to our greatest relief, after it lasted for almost 5 years. We celebrated that it finally came to an end when we didn’t win. We that wanted the war so badly now rejoiced that it ended. All these happened when I was really young. What I can remember vividly was the hunger that made me ugly and skinny and the thirst and dryness that cracked my lips till it bled, while we were in the bush hiding and running. It was not a funny experience and I don’t want to experience it anymore. He looked directly at me and said “you have not seen war. I have seen it. I know what it was like. You cannot survive it. It’s for the strong and the heartless. Can you fight? Can you kill? Can you stand the sight of blood? Can you go hungry and thirsty for weeks and maybe months? Don’t wish for war dear. Anyone that says they want war is only foolish. Dissuade those that support war from such insolence. They don’t know what they wish for, they should be careful what they wish for. They might just get something not expected in the end. Let us be patient with the government, we don’t know what the future holds.” All the anger and resentment I felt, evaporated into thin air.
CHINYERE OKEKE
