...Eventually, we started hearing people who were speaking Igbo. We moved towards their voices. It was a small town.
People were moving about a bit freely, but there were still many federal soldiers moving around some in Landover jeeps, shooting into the air.
We joined the crowd of those moving, until we got to a place where there was another commotion. The soldiers had commandeered a goat belonging to an old man. The old man would not let go of the goat.
They shot him.
Two men plus my brother were asked to kill the goat for the soldiers. They did. At the end, my brother was given the head of the goat, he put it in my basket, and we continued.
By early evening that day, we got to a place where a lot of people had been stopped by the soldiers.
No one was allowed to go past this place. By this time, I was very hungry. We sat among the other people in that particular place. My brother brought out the goat head; we could only manage to eat the skin, which was partially roasted as they had burnt off the hair.
There was a terrible smell where we were seated. I slept off, on the ground. I was tired.
As it got darker, my brother woke me up, and then kept moving towards the bush, asking me to follow. I did.
Eventually, we moved into the bush, and then found out where the terrible smell was coming from.
There were dead bodies all over the bush. When the soldiers started to shout, as if following after us, we had to lie down among the dead bodies!
After a while, my brother got up and we started to move that night, through the bush. We walked all night, and just kept walking.
When it was day, we stayed in a cassava farm. He uprooted some kind of cassava, ate and gave me some to eat. We then continued to move in the bush, till we heard people’s voices again, speaking calmly...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
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