Thursday, September 16, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: JOY, OF A MOTHER!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: JOY, OF A MOTHER!!!: "...Later in the afternoon that day, we arrived at Ogwumabiri, in Omoba at last! Before long, we arrived at our house, the one that belonged ..."
JOY, OF A MOTHER!!!
...Later in the afternoon that day, we arrived at Ogwumabiri, in Omoba at last!
Before long, we arrived at our house, the one that belonged to Nnanyi John Nkwerre.
My mother was apparently weeping before we arrived, but as someone exclaimed our names, she rushed out with others in the house with her following.
She held both of us together so tight, that I was hurting a bit.
She then started singing, praising God and dancing. It then became a free for all singing and dancing.
As we got into our sitting room, with everyone singing and dancing, almost as suddenly as she took up singing, she sank to the floor weeping uncontrollably.
Eventually, we got to know that with our arrival, it remained my sister Meg, for all of us to be complete. She was weeping believing that she must have been killed.
My mother, grandparents and other siblings had all returned to Omoba as well, after having to run away from the town to villages close to Mbawsi, as fighting got into the town, which was eventually captured by Federal troops.
Apart from my sister Meg, one of my uncle’s, Dede Young, Da Gold’s elder brother had also not returned. So she was weeping for the two of them.
By this time, someone had gone through the common fence at the back of the house, to tell my grandparents that we had returned.
My grandmother appeared dancing but shedding tears.
My grandfather soon appeared, and they started to console my mother, telling her that the same God that brought me and my brother Sunny back safely would also bring my sister Meg and my uncle back.
My grandfather then started to sing thanking God, he eventually prayed for us all.
All of us, Big Daddy, my brother Sunny, Bj’s Daddy, myself, Erinma’s Daddy, Ada’s Daddy, my uncle Chidi, my aunty Gloria and my grandparents were all present. We had survived that terrible war.
Some days later, we were all at home one evening, when my sister Meg also walked in...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: HOUSEBOYS, NOT BY CHOICE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: HOUSEBOYS, NOT BY CHOICE!!!: "...My brother was sent to serve in the house of an officer; I again, had to go with him. As it turned out again, he was a Yoruba man, who ha..."
HOUSEBOYS, NOT BY CHOICE!!!
...My brother was sent to serve in the house of an officer; I again, had to go with him. As it turned out again, he was a Yoruba man, who had commandeered an Ibo lady that was living with him.
This base was in a town called Nsulu-Imo (Nsulu-On-Imo River), the river was Imo River.
Again, I cannot remember how long we spent in this military base.
I however, remember that our routine was the same every day.
My brother Sunny would be sent to the market, or to the river to wash clothes, and fetch water, while I would be the one to wash plates and sweep and generally clean up the house.
When he returned and is within the base, I was then allowed to go to the river and fetch more water and then, take my bathe there.
We were never allowed to go anywhere together.
The officer was quite kind. He gave us some clothes, and gave my brother a wristwatch, and they would seat together sometimes when he was around, discussing in Yoruba.
After a while, I heard my brother talking with the lady, and she said she had been instructed not to allow us to go anywhere together, so we do not run away!
It was not long after that, that one morning, my brother was sent to the market, while the officer was not around. He pleaded with the lady, to let me go fetch water, so I could have gone several times before he returned from the market.
I eventually went twice, as she permitted me, and as my brother Sunny washed clothes in the house, before he set off for the market.
Before going, he told me he would meet me by the river.
He did and we ran off, with him carrying the water I was supposed to have gone to fetch...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Monday, September 13, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NOT FREE, YET!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NOT FREE, YET!!!: "...We continued to walk with them, till we came to a place where there were lots of palm wine trees. As we walked along the column of these ..."
NOT FREE, YET!!!
...We continued to walk with them, till we came to a place where there were lots of palm wine trees. As we walked along the column of these endless palm wine trees, there was a terrible smell all along.
Eventually, we turned off the road, and moved into the groove of palm wine trees, and then, I saw what the smell was all about.
As we walked on, I could see bodies of dead soldiers as far as I could see!
It soon appeared to me, that the place was close to a river. It was kind of swampy.
As we got closer to the water, there were more and more dead bodies. We actually had to walk over quite a lot, to keep going. Nobody was saying anything.
We eventually got to the bank of the river. A lot of people were there trying to cross the river.
I cannot remember exactly how long it took us to get there from Nkwerre. I only remember that we did not sleep anywhere, except where I had slept off. We just kept trekking.
My brother held me close as we waded through the river; a lot of other people were also crossing the river at this point. At a point, I could not feel anything under my feet!
He dragged me along till we got to the other bank of the river.
As we got across, there were federal soldiers on the bank, searching people.
When it got to our turn, after searching us, they detained my brother (I had to stay with him), with some other people, especially young women, with some elderly women wailing as the younger ones were taken away from them...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Eventually, we turned off the road, and moved into the groove of palm wine trees, and then, I saw what the smell was all about.
As we walked on, I could see bodies of dead soldiers as far as I could see!
It soon appeared to me, that the place was close to a river. It was kind of swampy.
As we got closer to the water, there were more and more dead bodies. We actually had to walk over quite a lot, to keep going. Nobody was saying anything.
We eventually got to the bank of the river. A lot of people were there trying to cross the river.
I cannot remember exactly how long it took us to get there from Nkwerre. I only remember that we did not sleep anywhere, except where I had slept off. We just kept trekking.
My brother held me close as we waded through the river; a lot of other people were also crossing the river at this point. At a point, I could not feel anything under my feet!
He dragged me along till we got to the other bank of the river.
As we got across, there were federal soldiers on the bank, searching people.
When it got to our turn, after searching us, they detained my brother (I had to stay with him), with some other people, especially young women, with some elderly women wailing as the younger ones were taken away from them...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: H E L P, NO WAR CRIMINALS HERE???!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: H E L P, NO WAR CRIMINALS HERE???!!!: "...You might not find it interesting, some of the imagery and accounts might actually be graphic and therefore, horrifying. You might even c..."
H E L P, NO WAR CRIMINALS HERE???!!!
...You might not find it interesting, some of the imagery and accounts might actually be graphic and therefore, horrifying. You might even consider some aspect, some kind of fables, fabricated to make the story interesting. Well, you are entitled to your opinion. I know what I saw and experienced, it was a real war. Not Rambo or Commando, or The Inglorious Bastards that you watch in the movies. So be careful about your agitations.
Besides, while I have not written a history book, I have made references to some events and landmarks that can be verified. I also resisted the temptation to make phone calls to request for names of places and dates from my mother or elder siblings who are still living, while writing this book. I chose to tell the story of the war, as it affects me, and as I remember it, about forty years after.
But I however, never recalled any of the main actors of that war, being tried for War Crimes at The Hague, whether for ‘oil’ or ‘diamonds’, like Charles Taylor…, instead, they have had their military ranks restored, and have actually been paid their pensions in arrears. I wonder who is going to compensate me for all I suffered and lost?
This is, just a thought, but a valid one.
But then, the politicians that precipitated that war are still pulling the strings, some of them from their graves.
Our problem has always been with incompetent, selfish, greedy and largely unpatriotic civilian politicians (and not tribe, not religion), who polluted the military class between 1966, and 1999, by getting them involved in politics...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Besides, while I have not written a history book, I have made references to some events and landmarks that can be verified. I also resisted the temptation to make phone calls to request for names of places and dates from my mother or elder siblings who are still living, while writing this book. I chose to tell the story of the war, as it affects me, and as I remember it, about forty years after.
But I however, never recalled any of the main actors of that war, being tried for War Crimes at The Hague, whether for ‘oil’ or ‘diamonds’, like Charles Taylor…, instead, they have had their military ranks restored, and have actually been paid their pensions in arrears. I wonder who is going to compensate me for all I suffered and lost?
This is, just a thought, but a valid one.
But then, the politicians that precipitated that war are still pulling the strings, some of them from their graves.
Our problem has always been with incompetent, selfish, greedy and largely unpatriotic civilian politicians (and not tribe, not religion), who polluted the military class between 1966, and 1999, by getting them involved in politics...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Friday, September 10, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...: "...Eventually, we started hearing people who were speaking Igbo. We moved towards their voices. It was a small town. People were moving ab..."
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...: "...Eventually, we started hearing people who were speaking Igbo. We moved towards their voices. It was a small town. People were moving ab..."
IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!
...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!
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!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DEFINE WAR CRIMES!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DEFINE WAR CRIMES!!!: "...I could not sleep that night; I desperately wanted to see my elder brother, at last, a member of my family after so long that I had been ..."
CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DEFINE WAR CRIMES!!!
...I could not sleep that night; I desperately wanted to see my elder brother, at last, a member of my family after so long that I had been alone.
By this time, I learnt the war had ended.
The next morning, I was the first one to get up, ready for Udara picking, for a very different reason!
And as we got there, lo and behold, my brother Sunny was there!
I ran to him, and held him firmly, he too held me.
I narrated to him, all that had happened, and that I did not know where my sister Meg was, after she left me in the house in Owerri to say she was going to the war front.
All the same, I was so happy seeing my brother. But I noticed he was not wearing army uniform. The last time he came home to visit in Omoba, he was smartly dressed in his uniform, shinny boots and all.
But here, he was wearing some funny looking outfit. He asked me to go get my things that we had to go home.
I was very happy as ran off to get my things. I said goodbye to everyone, and went back to the Udara tree, to meet him.
As I got there, he checked the content of the bag, took one of my sister Meg’s dresses, a gown, and wore it over what he was putting on, and we set off.
As we got to the centre of the town, there were a different type of soldiers all over the place, they were Federal soldiers.
Some of them were just shooting into the air.
They were stopping people and searching them. There were many checkpoints as we walked towards the outskirt of the town.
At some points, the soldiers would stop all the men. Whenever they stopped my brother, I would stopped and stay with him, they would ask me to keep moving, I would start crying, not moving. Eventually they would ask my brother to take me away, and go.
At one checkpoint, they stopped all the men and were asking them to pull their trouser up above their knees. They would also check their elbows.
They were asking some of the men to move to one side and sit on the ground.
They asked my brother why he was wearing a woman’s dress. Fortunately for him, the person that was searching him spoke in Yoruba to another soldier, my brother responded in Yoruba that the dress was all the he had to wear, that it belonged to our sister. The man was surprised, he asked us to wait a while. They were actually going to ask my brother to join those that were being asked to wait; he had some bruises on his knees, which was why they sent him to this particular soldier.
I said fortunately earlier, because, what happened next was terrible.
After a while, the soldier that spoke in Yoruba came to us and asked my brother and me, to quietly enter the bush and go, when the other soldiers were not looking.
So after a while, there was some kind of commotion, and the soldiers shot one man, the Yoruba soldier asked us to go into the bush and go away.
As we did, we could see from inside the bush, they turned on all those that they had asked to sit down on the ground, and shot them!
We kept going inside the bush for a while, walking through farmlands and bushes, not really forest. As we walked, my brother explained to me that why they were looking at the men’s knees and elbows was because; they wanted to identify those that were soldiers. He said bruises at the knees and elbows meant the men must have been crawling during combat, that if that soldier had not asked us to go, that he also would have been shot with those other men...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
By this time, I learnt the war had ended.
The next morning, I was the first one to get up, ready for Udara picking, for a very different reason!
And as we got there, lo and behold, my brother Sunny was there!
I ran to him, and held him firmly, he too held me.
I narrated to him, all that had happened, and that I did not know where my sister Meg was, after she left me in the house in Owerri to say she was going to the war front.
All the same, I was so happy seeing my brother. But I noticed he was not wearing army uniform. The last time he came home to visit in Omoba, he was smartly dressed in his uniform, shinny boots and all.
But here, he was wearing some funny looking outfit. He asked me to go get my things that we had to go home.
I was very happy as ran off to get my things. I said goodbye to everyone, and went back to the Udara tree, to meet him.
As I got there, he checked the content of the bag, took one of my sister Meg’s dresses, a gown, and wore it over what he was putting on, and we set off.
As we got to the centre of the town, there were a different type of soldiers all over the place, they were Federal soldiers.
Some of them were just shooting into the air.
They were stopping people and searching them. There were many checkpoints as we walked towards the outskirt of the town.
At some points, the soldiers would stop all the men. Whenever they stopped my brother, I would stopped and stay with him, they would ask me to keep moving, I would start crying, not moving. Eventually they would ask my brother to take me away, and go.
At one checkpoint, they stopped all the men and were asking them to pull their trouser up above their knees. They would also check their elbows.
They were asking some of the men to move to one side and sit on the ground.
They asked my brother why he was wearing a woman’s dress. Fortunately for him, the person that was searching him spoke in Yoruba to another soldier, my brother responded in Yoruba that the dress was all the he had to wear, that it belonged to our sister. The man was surprised, he asked us to wait a while. They were actually going to ask my brother to join those that were being asked to wait; he had some bruises on his knees, which was why they sent him to this particular soldier.
I said fortunately earlier, because, what happened next was terrible.
After a while, the soldier that spoke in Yoruba came to us and asked my brother and me, to quietly enter the bush and go, when the other soldiers were not looking.
So after a while, there was some kind of commotion, and the soldiers shot one man, the Yoruba soldier asked us to go into the bush and go away.
As we did, we could see from inside the bush, they turned on all those that they had asked to sit down on the ground, and shot them!
We kept going inside the bush for a while, walking through farmlands and bushes, not really forest. As we walked, my brother explained to me that why they were looking at the men’s knees and elbows was because; they wanted to identify those that were soldiers. He said bruises at the knees and elbows meant the men must have been crawling during combat, that if that soldier had not asked us to go, that he also would have been shot with those other men...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: DANGEROUSLY HOME ALONE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: DANGEROUSLY HOME ALONE!!!: "...One day, we arrived at the river, nobody was in the water. All the children we met there were standing by the river bank. Blood was flo..."
DANGEROUSLY HOME ALONE!!!
...One day, we arrived at the river, nobody was in the water. All the children we met there were standing by the river bank.
Blood was flowing in the water. We had to return home.
My sister Meg was already back home when I got home. She was visibly worried. She was angry I had gone out, but kept telling me not to worry, that everything would be alright. I did not understand why she was acting that way, but by then, the sounds of heavy guns were much nearer.
She went to the kitchen, fried some meat, and with the meat, packed some other foodstuff like garri, some roasted bush meat, powdered milk and some money, into a basket with a string around its neck with which it could be pulled closed. She then put a few of my wears into another small leather bag and said that whatever happens, I should not panic, but should carry only those two items, the basket, and the bag, and follow people in whatever direction they moved. She repeated that I should not carry any other thing from her room. She held me very close to her, very emotional, to my utter confusion. I had never seen her act like that. She is usually, a very strong person.
She then went into the compound and spoke with some of the neighbours, and came back later to say she was going to the war front.
She left.
By about six in the evening, the gun sounds were very, very heavy and very, very close!
The Kwara nu, kwara nu, unu dum! sound, I could hear it for real now myself, and not from a story told by my sister.
Soon, people began to shout and run about in a confused manner.
In all of the war time, this was my first experience of being in a place, when the inhabitants had to move away from the place because the war had reached that place.
So, I had no previous experience of what to do, and I was all alone!
This must be late in 1969, or early 1970.
One of my sister Meg’s neighbour’s –a woman, in the house came into the room to ask what I was doing. She was quite panicky. She asked me to start packing our things that we had to move out.
I remembered what my sister Meg had said before leaving. But before I could say anything, the woman started to help me with the packing or so I thought.
I on my own, I put some of my sister’s wears into the bag she had packed for me. The woman, after packing, took a suitcase out; she came back with her husband to carry more things.
They asked me to get ready to move out. I was still putting some wears into my bag.
By the time I got out of the room into the courtyard, they had gone, with my sister’s things!
Suddenly, there was a very loud bang nearby, people started screaming and running. I took the basket and the bag and ran in the direction that people were running, as my sister had said.
Everyone seemed to be moving in the same direction, as the guns sounded heavier and closer. There was immense panic. People were shouting the names of their family members, most were carrying heavy loads. I was busy looking at people’s faces as I saw those with heavy loads, thinking I would some how, see the people that carried my sister’s things. I never saw them again. But I remembered where they were from, a place called Ugwa.
As we moved on, the crowd became so large that movement became almost impossible because everyone was headed in the same direction.
As I am writing, I remember a discussion that I had in Abuja with two of my friends sometime ago, as I tried to tell them that a crisis of the type that I am describing would be in nobody’s interest.
One of them said he had made it a habit for all his cars to have full tanks every Friday, so that should anything happen he gets to drive off!
I laughed.
When it was not possible for people walking on foot to move, where would cars pass?!!!
Those who are beating drums of confusion, division and chaos really do not know what they are doing. It is either that, or they just do not care because they feel they would escape...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Blood was flowing in the water. We had to return home.
My sister Meg was already back home when I got home. She was visibly worried. She was angry I had gone out, but kept telling me not to worry, that everything would be alright. I did not understand why she was acting that way, but by then, the sounds of heavy guns were much nearer.
She went to the kitchen, fried some meat, and with the meat, packed some other foodstuff like garri, some roasted bush meat, powdered milk and some money, into a basket with a string around its neck with which it could be pulled closed. She then put a few of my wears into another small leather bag and said that whatever happens, I should not panic, but should carry only those two items, the basket, and the bag, and follow people in whatever direction they moved. She repeated that I should not carry any other thing from her room. She held me very close to her, very emotional, to my utter confusion. I had never seen her act like that. She is usually, a very strong person.
She then went into the compound and spoke with some of the neighbours, and came back later to say she was going to the war front.
She left.
By about six in the evening, the gun sounds were very, very heavy and very, very close!
The Kwara nu, kwara nu, unu dum! sound, I could hear it for real now myself, and not from a story told by my sister.
Soon, people began to shout and run about in a confused manner.
In all of the war time, this was my first experience of being in a place, when the inhabitants had to move away from the place because the war had reached that place.
So, I had no previous experience of what to do, and I was all alone!
This must be late in 1969, or early 1970.
One of my sister Meg’s neighbour’s –a woman, in the house came into the room to ask what I was doing. She was quite panicky. She asked me to start packing our things that we had to move out.
I remembered what my sister Meg had said before leaving. But before I could say anything, the woman started to help me with the packing or so I thought.
I on my own, I put some of my sister’s wears into the bag she had packed for me. The woman, after packing, took a suitcase out; she came back with her husband to carry more things.
They asked me to get ready to move out. I was still putting some wears into my bag.
By the time I got out of the room into the courtyard, they had gone, with my sister’s things!
Suddenly, there was a very loud bang nearby, people started screaming and running. I took the basket and the bag and ran in the direction that people were running, as my sister had said.
Everyone seemed to be moving in the same direction, as the guns sounded heavier and closer. There was immense panic. People were shouting the names of their family members, most were carrying heavy loads. I was busy looking at people’s faces as I saw those with heavy loads, thinking I would some how, see the people that carried my sister’s things. I never saw them again. But I remembered where they were from, a place called Ugwa.
As we moved on, the crowd became so large that movement became almost impossible because everyone was headed in the same direction.
As I am writing, I remember a discussion that I had in Abuja with two of my friends sometime ago, as I tried to tell them that a crisis of the type that I am describing would be in nobody’s interest.
One of them said he had made it a habit for all his cars to have full tanks every Friday, so that should anything happen he gets to drive off!
I laughed.
When it was not possible for people walking on foot to move, where would cars pass?!!!
Those who are beating drums of confusion, division and chaos really do not know what they are doing. It is either that, or they just do not care because they feel they would escape...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Monday, September 6, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF WAR CRIME?
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF WAR CRIME?: "...I cannot remember exactly how long I spent at Owerrinta, but by the time we got back to Omoba, trekking for almost a whole day again, the..."
WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF WAR CRIME?
...I cannot remember exactly how long I spent at Owerrinta, but by the time we got back to Omoba, trekking for almost a whole day again, there now more soldiers in the town than there were before we left. They would usually parade about shouting and singing.
My mother was very upset when I arrived sick. They took care of my head, and I eventually got better and joined my other siblings and our friends to go into the forest to stay away from the now very constant air-raids.
But on Sundays, we attended church services with either my grandmother or my grandfather
One such Sunday, as we were returning from service from my grandmother’s St. Barnabas Anglican church hear the market, we met a crowd near the market surrounding some people.
We went close, to take a look.
At the centre of the crowd were four men, seated on the ground, with their hands tied behind their backs. Besides them on the ground were severed arms and legs, certainly not theirs.
Some people in the said they were Nigerian soldiers, captured from the war front. They were talking of cooking and eating the severed limbs!
They were eventually led away, towards our former house that had become headquarters for the army.
The next Sunday, as we came back from church, we saw a lot of people heading towards the place where the men were taken. We followed.
We arrived at a portion of land near where the army headquarters was, this was not far away from our former house. This portion of land is around a road that linked Umuokegwu road and Umu-Agu road. The army had a dump for some sort of crude oil close to this place.
A crowd surrounded a portion of the land. In the middle, there was a trench, some lifeless bodies were inside. There was another man standing blindfolded close to one end of the trench. There was a soldier behind him. Suddenly, the soldier lifted a metal object he was carrying and hit the blindfolded man at the back of his head, some of the people around shouted as if in victory, blood gushed out as he fell into the trench.
Some of the people were saying that the soldiers were rationing their bullets, so, they did not have enough to just shoot the men.
People started living the place soon afterwards.
I was horrified!
I felt very sorry for the man. The sight and the thought disturbed me for years.
This is one of the reasons for which I feel bad that none of the key actors in that war were ever tried for war crimes.
Not long after that, my sister Meg brought my eldest brother (Big Daddy) home. He could not walk. They said he was shot in the leg at the war front, and they were going to cut off his injured leg because there was no medicine to treat him, and there were too many injured people at the war front.
They also said he was very lucky that my sister Meg was around there that time, and smuggled him home.
They used a native doctor to treat him. He was always at home, hidden.
My sister Meg soon left to go back to go back to the front. She came back some time later, to say that the Biafran troops had recaptured Owerri, and that she had been posted there...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
My mother was very upset when I arrived sick. They took care of my head, and I eventually got better and joined my other siblings and our friends to go into the forest to stay away from the now very constant air-raids.
But on Sundays, we attended church services with either my grandmother or my grandfather
One such Sunday, as we were returning from service from my grandmother’s St. Barnabas Anglican church hear the market, we met a crowd near the market surrounding some people.
We went close, to take a look.
At the centre of the crowd were four men, seated on the ground, with their hands tied behind their backs. Besides them on the ground were severed arms and legs, certainly not theirs.
Some people in the said they were Nigerian soldiers, captured from the war front. They were talking of cooking and eating the severed limbs!
They were eventually led away, towards our former house that had become headquarters for the army.
The next Sunday, as we came back from church, we saw a lot of people heading towards the place where the men were taken. We followed.
We arrived at a portion of land near where the army headquarters was, this was not far away from our former house. This portion of land is around a road that linked Umuokegwu road and Umu-Agu road. The army had a dump for some sort of crude oil close to this place.
A crowd surrounded a portion of the land. In the middle, there was a trench, some lifeless bodies were inside. There was another man standing blindfolded close to one end of the trench. There was a soldier behind him. Suddenly, the soldier lifted a metal object he was carrying and hit the blindfolded man at the back of his head, some of the people around shouted as if in victory, blood gushed out as he fell into the trench.
Some of the people were saying that the soldiers were rationing their bullets, so, they did not have enough to just shoot the men.
People started living the place soon afterwards.
I was horrified!
I felt very sorry for the man. The sight and the thought disturbed me for years.
This is one of the reasons for which I feel bad that none of the key actors in that war were ever tried for war crimes.
Not long after that, my sister Meg brought my eldest brother (Big Daddy) home. He could not walk. They said he was shot in the leg at the war front, and they were going to cut off his injured leg because there was no medicine to treat him, and there were too many injured people at the war front.
They also said he was very lucky that my sister Meg was around there that time, and smuggled him home.
They used a native doctor to treat him. He was always at home, hidden.
My sister Meg soon left to go back to go back to the front. She came back some time later, to say that the Biafran troops had recaptured Owerri, and that she had been posted there...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NIGERIAN REFUGEES, IN NIGERIA!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NIGERIAN REFUGEES, IN NIGERIA!!!: "...At about this time, my aunty Gloria volunteered to help out with the distribution of food for refugees in one of the refugee camps. Event..."
NIGERIAN REFUGEES, IN NIGERIA!!!
...At about this time, my aunty Gloria volunteered to help out with the distribution of food for refugees in one of the refugee camps. Eventually, she was sent to a refugee camp in Owerrinta.
My aunty Gloria is my mother immediate younger sister.
She left, but came back home not too long after, to ask my mother to allow her to take me to stay with her at the refugee camp in Owerrinta. My mother agreed. I do not why she did. But I sure was excited at the prospect of seeing a new place with my aunty.
One early morning, we both left Omoba, walking through several villages, and bush paths till we arrived in Owerrinta late in the evening.
Little did I know that I was practicing for what would be a far much longer, lonely and difficult trek soon enough.
Didie, Owerrinta means ‘small Owerri’.
It is located between Owerri, and a place called ‘Ugba’ Junction, on the way to Aba. It is also not far from the Owerri Airport.
The refugee camp was inside a seminary along the road leading from Owerri to Ugba Junction.
The facility is still there now, very close to a naval facility close to the Imo River on the same road.
As we got into the camp, I noticed that it was very large, with lots and lots of people inside it. From their languages, they were a mixture of people from present day Cross River, Akwa Ibom, Rivers and of course Ibos whose towns and villages had either been over-ran by Federal troops, or are battlegrounds.
The scenario inside the camp, was like the ones you see on television of refugee camps in the Congo or Rwanda or any other such places where people had been forced to live outside of their homes, and then in camps, because of war.
Housed in whatever shelters were available, fed with whatever food items they were given, treated for ailments with whatever medicines were available.
They had no choice. They looked helpless, hopeless.
From inside the camp, sound of constant gun shot could be heard, not too far off. More and more people arrived into the camp daily. A lot of them wounded. Some of the wounded were in military uniform.
My aunty had just a bed in one of the dormitories in the camp. We shared the bed. It was an open dormitory, in a large hall with lots beds in it. It was always noisy, and there was hardly any difference between night and day.
My aunty helped out in different places at different times in the camp. Sometimes, she worked in the kitchen, sometimes in the clinic.
The clinic was the scariest of all the places she worked at. I usually left the dormitory to go to look for her around the camp during the day.
On one such occasion, I went into the clinic while she was on duty there.
I saw many children with bloated and almost transparent tummies all over the place. There were also adults with very scary injuries. Bleeding severed limbs, broken heads…There was a lot of screaming and wailing. The whole place smelt terribly!
They asked me to leave. They did not need to because I was too scared, to want to stay.
When my aunty came back to the dormitory later in the evening, she was upset with me for getting to the clinic.
I never went there gain on my own, except the day I was carried there, unconscious...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
My aunty Gloria is my mother immediate younger sister.
She left, but came back home not too long after, to ask my mother to allow her to take me to stay with her at the refugee camp in Owerrinta. My mother agreed. I do not why she did. But I sure was excited at the prospect of seeing a new place with my aunty.
One early morning, we both left Omoba, walking through several villages, and bush paths till we arrived in Owerrinta late in the evening.
Little did I know that I was practicing for what would be a far much longer, lonely and difficult trek soon enough.
Didie, Owerrinta means ‘small Owerri’.
It is located between Owerri, and a place called ‘Ugba’ Junction, on the way to Aba. It is also not far from the Owerri Airport.
The refugee camp was inside a seminary along the road leading from Owerri to Ugba Junction.
The facility is still there now, very close to a naval facility close to the Imo River on the same road.
As we got into the camp, I noticed that it was very large, with lots and lots of people inside it. From their languages, they were a mixture of people from present day Cross River, Akwa Ibom, Rivers and of course Ibos whose towns and villages had either been over-ran by Federal troops, or are battlegrounds.
The scenario inside the camp, was like the ones you see on television of refugee camps in the Congo or Rwanda or any other such places where people had been forced to live outside of their homes, and then in camps, because of war.
Housed in whatever shelters were available, fed with whatever food items they were given, treated for ailments with whatever medicines were available.
They had no choice. They looked helpless, hopeless.
From inside the camp, sound of constant gun shot could be heard, not too far off. More and more people arrived into the camp daily. A lot of them wounded. Some of the wounded were in military uniform.
My aunty had just a bed in one of the dormitories in the camp. We shared the bed. It was an open dormitory, in a large hall with lots beds in it. It was always noisy, and there was hardly any difference between night and day.
My aunty helped out in different places at different times in the camp. Sometimes, she worked in the kitchen, sometimes in the clinic.
The clinic was the scariest of all the places she worked at. I usually left the dormitory to go to look for her around the camp during the day.
On one such occasion, I went into the clinic while she was on duty there.
I saw many children with bloated and almost transparent tummies all over the place. There were also adults with very scary injuries. Bleeding severed limbs, broken heads…There was a lot of screaming and wailing. The whole place smelt terribly!
They asked me to leave. They did not need to because I was too scared, to want to stay.
When my aunty came back to the dormitory later in the evening, she was upset with me for getting to the clinic.
I never went there gain on my own, except the day I was carried there, unconscious...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Saturday, September 4, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!: "...would hear as well as see gun fires from the top of the concrete water tank. We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until..."
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!: "...would hear as well as see gun fires from the top of the concrete water tank. We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until..."
IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!
...would hear as well as see gun fires from the top of the concrete water tank.
We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until one particular raid happened.
By this time, my elder brothers and uncles were hardly seen at home. I later got to know that they were not usually at home because they were hiding from soldiers who wanted to force them to join the army.
Eventually, two of my brothers, some of my uncles and my sister Meg ended up in the army!
The particular raid that happened was so devastating that the crater the bombs created is still there.
It was a Friday morning, I remember because usually more people used to go to the market, especially Seventh Day Adventist Church members who would want to dispose of their farm produce before the Sabbath.
That morning, we were at my grandparents’ house. Many people queued up to buy Akidi from my grandmother, so she had not gone to the market. If she had gone to the market, maybe we would not have seen her again after that day.
Suddenly, before we could even hear the sound of the aircrafts, we heard a very loud bang that shook the ground and everything on it!
People started running aimlessly all over the place, in a frenzied panic. I heard my grandmother screaming ‘run to the backyard!’ We did and took cover under cocoyam plants!
We heard the aircrafts fly bye this time, and a second big bang.
Under the cocoyam plants, we heard something drop. When everything became quiet again, we were asked to come out. Then we noticed that the thing we had heard drop, fell very close to brother Kanayo’s head. It was bomb fragment!
My mother was then around, and she was crying.
When we got to front of the house, we saw people trooping to and fro the direction of the market; weeping, wailing screaming.
The bombs had landed in the market, killing countless number of people, turning their bodies of those that still had what could be called bodies black!
I know because, we eventually followed people to go to see what had happened.
There was a very big crater where the bombs landed. Some buildings in the market were still burning when we got there, with bodies and human limbs mostly indistinguishable from those of goats and cows, except for obvious parts.
The crater was between the railway station and the market. Maybe they were intending to bomb the railway station.
The concrete tank where the big guns were had been badly perforated by shells, and there was nobody on it.
The market and the main means of people earning a living even under the circumstances had been destroyed.
Omoba has never recovered from that destruction, as that was the point at which people who were from other the Ngwa speaking environs started living to go back to their towns and villages, because of their losses with most never returning even after the war. So, Omoba has remained a shadow of its former glory, especially with the collapse of the rail system in Nigeria.
From that day, everything changed because the air-raids became regular.
Our daily routine changed.
My mother would wake up very early, cook food, park the food for us to take into the forest where some kind of makeshift shelters had been provided by the elders, and we would be there for the whole day, returning home only in the late evenings.
Then, we would play war games in the nights under the moonlights instead of the traditional moonlight stories that normally would happen.
No school.
Many refugee camps suddenly developed around us. People queued up to receive corn meal rations, with milk and sometime stock fish and salt.
People hunted lizards like they were hunting antelopes!
Not very long, salt became very scarce and expensive, families had meals without salt.
And with the want tank destroyed, we had to trek to fetch water from stream in villages far away from Omoba. With the intensified air-raids, it even became impossible to go to some of those streams. We had to go to fetch water from rainwater ponds, and my mother would ground alum to put in the water to cause it to change colour, to become clearer like clean water and the sediments go down, before we could use the water, including for drinking. It usually had a heavy sour taste...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until one particular raid happened.
By this time, my elder brothers and uncles were hardly seen at home. I later got to know that they were not usually at home because they were hiding from soldiers who wanted to force them to join the army.
Eventually, two of my brothers, some of my uncles and my sister Meg ended up in the army!
The particular raid that happened was so devastating that the crater the bombs created is still there.
It was a Friday morning, I remember because usually more people used to go to the market, especially Seventh Day Adventist Church members who would want to dispose of their farm produce before the Sabbath.
That morning, we were at my grandparents’ house. Many people queued up to buy Akidi from my grandmother, so she had not gone to the market. If she had gone to the market, maybe we would not have seen her again after that day.
Suddenly, before we could even hear the sound of the aircrafts, we heard a very loud bang that shook the ground and everything on it!
People started running aimlessly all over the place, in a frenzied panic. I heard my grandmother screaming ‘run to the backyard!’ We did and took cover under cocoyam plants!
We heard the aircrafts fly bye this time, and a second big bang.
Under the cocoyam plants, we heard something drop. When everything became quiet again, we were asked to come out. Then we noticed that the thing we had heard drop, fell very close to brother Kanayo’s head. It was bomb fragment!
My mother was then around, and she was crying.
When we got to front of the house, we saw people trooping to and fro the direction of the market; weeping, wailing screaming.
The bombs had landed in the market, killing countless number of people, turning their bodies of those that still had what could be called bodies black!
I know because, we eventually followed people to go to see what had happened.
There was a very big crater where the bombs landed. Some buildings in the market were still burning when we got there, with bodies and human limbs mostly indistinguishable from those of goats and cows, except for obvious parts.
The crater was between the railway station and the market. Maybe they were intending to bomb the railway station.
The concrete tank where the big guns were had been badly perforated by shells, and there was nobody on it.
The market and the main means of people earning a living even under the circumstances had been destroyed.
Omoba has never recovered from that destruction, as that was the point at which people who were from other the Ngwa speaking environs started living to go back to their towns and villages, because of their losses with most never returning even after the war. So, Omoba has remained a shadow of its former glory, especially with the collapse of the rail system in Nigeria.
From that day, everything changed because the air-raids became regular.
Our daily routine changed.
My mother would wake up very early, cook food, park the food for us to take into the forest where some kind of makeshift shelters had been provided by the elders, and we would be there for the whole day, returning home only in the late evenings.
Then, we would play war games in the nights under the moonlights instead of the traditional moonlight stories that normally would happen.
No school.
Many refugee camps suddenly developed around us. People queued up to receive corn meal rations, with milk and sometime stock fish and salt.
People hunted lizards like they were hunting antelopes!
Not very long, salt became very scarce and expensive, families had meals without salt.
And with the want tank destroyed, we had to trek to fetch water from stream in villages far away from Omoba. With the intensified air-raids, it even became impossible to go to some of those streams. We had to go to fetch water from rainwater ponds, and my mother would ground alum to put in the water to cause it to change colour, to become clearer like clean water and the sediments go down, before we could use the water, including for drinking. It usually had a heavy sour taste...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Friday, September 3, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, YOUR NAME COULD COST YOU YOUR L...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, YOUR NAME COULD COST YOU YOUR L...: "... Omoba was booming with commercial activities, with people from different parts of Nigeria moving in there to do business. This was th..."
IN WAR SITUATIONS, YOUR NAME COULD COST YOU YOUR LIFE!
... Omoba was booming with commercial activities, with people from different parts of Nigeria moving in there to do business.
This was the status of this rural town at the time the civil war started, which eventually drew a lot of negative interests to the town form both the Federal and Biafran sides, and as in all wars, with disastrous consequences for the inhabitants, like I said earlier.
The inhabitants of Omoba at that time included my grandparents, Bennett and Helena Otuoma Ogbonna.
My grandfather Bennett Ogbonna was a Mason, and one of the leading ministers of the Assemblies of God Church in the town. He was from Mbawsi.
My grandmother Helena was from the neigbouring village of Umuokegwu. She was in the food business. She used to prepare traditional beans called akidi, to the delight of her numerous customers that referred to her simply as ‘Mama Gold’, after the name of one of my aunties, Da Gold, that she brought up.
My grandmother’s day usually started at about 3:00 A.M, when she would start to inspect and prepare the akidi which she would have put on the fire before going to bed. This traditional bean usually takes much longer to cook, than non-traditional beans.
Her preparation and recipe usually had her clients queuing up in her home, to buy akidi, way before she gets to the Ogwumabiri (the name of the market at Omoba). In most cases, she would find it difficult to stop selling at home, but usually had to, because people would have been waiting for her to arrive in the market, to buy akidi from her market stall at Ogwumabiri.
I have often wondered why I have had to be the one to experience certain things or be at certain places at certain times.
Well Didie, my conclusion is that there is no accident in all of these situations, nor is there anything that really happens by accident in life.
I f I had not been at those places, or experienced those things at those times; I would not have had any stories to tell you. Nor would it have been possible for some of the insights and possibly, lessons that might be possible from these incidents and situations, to be outlined.
So, it is very important that we seek for whatever lessons are inherent in our experiences, and learn from them. So that the unpleasant ones may be avoided.
For instance, why did that war happen? Why did children like me then, have to pass through all I had to pass through, as you would see, as we continue with the story? What can be done so that children and the rest of us would not have to experience such hardships again?
These were the questions that rang through my mind before I eventually decided to write this book, telling you the story of my experiences as a child caught in the Nigeria-Biafra war that has come to be known as the Nigeria civil war.
As it concerns me, if you have been following, I have had to stop school twice, moved from Lagos to Port Harcourt, and we are now in Omoba, all because of the war.
And yet, they real hardships were just about to begin.
When I arrived in Omoba, my mother and my other siblings had moved into the upper floor in a one story building in the valley on the way to Umuokegwu.
The environment of this house was very serene. It was removed from the centre of the town, away from the noise of the market and the railway station. Again, this put us at a disadvantage later, as you would see.
My grandparents’ house, which was just about ten minutes walk to the market and the railway station, was a three bedroom bungalow which was too small to accommodate all of us.
I noticed there was something strange happening in our family.
My immediately elder brother, (Bj’s daddy), was called Ade, by all of us. His name is Adebunmi. I however, noticed that I was the only one that would call him Ade in the family then. And each time I had to call out to him, I would be cautioned not to call him Ade any more, but Kanayo.
The war had arrived in this small rural commercial town, before my arrival from Port Harcourt.
I was told that my brother could not be called by his Yoruba name, and neither could any of us because, people with names from the West and the North had had to flee, or were being rounded up and killed, by their erstwhile clients, neighbours, associates and even in-laws who were Ibos; in retaliation for the killing of Ibos in other parts of the country!
We stood the risk of being killed by our mother’s kinsmen, just by being called by our Yoruba names!
It therefore became like a taboo, for our Yoruba names to be mentioned. Even amongst ourselves.
So, we could not get to start school, while some other children were still going to school at this time...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
This was the status of this rural town at the time the civil war started, which eventually drew a lot of negative interests to the town form both the Federal and Biafran sides, and as in all wars, with disastrous consequences for the inhabitants, like I said earlier.
The inhabitants of Omoba at that time included my grandparents, Bennett and Helena Otuoma Ogbonna.
My grandfather Bennett Ogbonna was a Mason, and one of the leading ministers of the Assemblies of God Church in the town. He was from Mbawsi.
My grandmother Helena was from the neigbouring village of Umuokegwu. She was in the food business. She used to prepare traditional beans called akidi, to the delight of her numerous customers that referred to her simply as ‘Mama Gold’, after the name of one of my aunties, Da Gold, that she brought up.
My grandmother’s day usually started at about 3:00 A.M, when she would start to inspect and prepare the akidi which she would have put on the fire before going to bed. This traditional bean usually takes much longer to cook, than non-traditional beans.
Her preparation and recipe usually had her clients queuing up in her home, to buy akidi, way before she gets to the Ogwumabiri (the name of the market at Omoba). In most cases, she would find it difficult to stop selling at home, but usually had to, because people would have been waiting for her to arrive in the market, to buy akidi from her market stall at Ogwumabiri.
I have often wondered why I have had to be the one to experience certain things or be at certain places at certain times.
Well Didie, my conclusion is that there is no accident in all of these situations, nor is there anything that really happens by accident in life.
I f I had not been at those places, or experienced those things at those times; I would not have had any stories to tell you. Nor would it have been possible for some of the insights and possibly, lessons that might be possible from these incidents and situations, to be outlined.
So, it is very important that we seek for whatever lessons are inherent in our experiences, and learn from them. So that the unpleasant ones may be avoided.
For instance, why did that war happen? Why did children like me then, have to pass through all I had to pass through, as you would see, as we continue with the story? What can be done so that children and the rest of us would not have to experience such hardships again?
These were the questions that rang through my mind before I eventually decided to write this book, telling you the story of my experiences as a child caught in the Nigeria-Biafra war that has come to be known as the Nigeria civil war.
As it concerns me, if you have been following, I have had to stop school twice, moved from Lagos to Port Harcourt, and we are now in Omoba, all because of the war.
And yet, they real hardships were just about to begin.
When I arrived in Omoba, my mother and my other siblings had moved into the upper floor in a one story building in the valley on the way to Umuokegwu.
The environment of this house was very serene. It was removed from the centre of the town, away from the noise of the market and the railway station. Again, this put us at a disadvantage later, as you would see.
My grandparents’ house, which was just about ten minutes walk to the market and the railway station, was a three bedroom bungalow which was too small to accommodate all of us.
I noticed there was something strange happening in our family.
My immediately elder brother, (Bj’s daddy), was called Ade, by all of us. His name is Adebunmi. I however, noticed that I was the only one that would call him Ade in the family then. And each time I had to call out to him, I would be cautioned not to call him Ade any more, but Kanayo.
The war had arrived in this small rural commercial town, before my arrival from Port Harcourt.
I was told that my brother could not be called by his Yoruba name, and neither could any of us because, people with names from the West and the North had had to flee, or were being rounded up and killed, by their erstwhile clients, neighbours, associates and even in-laws who were Ibos; in retaliation for the killing of Ibos in other parts of the country!
We stood the risk of being killed by our mother’s kinsmen, just by being called by our Yoruba names!
It therefore became like a taboo, for our Yoruba names to be mentioned. Even amongst ourselves.
So, we could not get to start school, while some other children were still going to school at this time...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: THEY BOMBED OUR REFINERY!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: THEY BOMBED OUR REFINERY!!!: "...It was not however long after we moved into this house, that my mother decided that we had to relocate to Omoba. I did not understand w..."
THEY BOMBED OUR REFINERY!!!
...It was not however long after we moved into this house, that my mother decided that we had to relocate to Omoba.
I did not understand why then, but now, I understand that she had information that the war had started, and that it was better for us to be closer home.
So, all our things were packed into trucks, and they left for Omoba, leaving me behind, to stay with my sister Meg.
My sister Meg was not living with us. She had her own apartment.
The street where her house was located was close to the creeks, so I loved to go fishing and periwinkle ‘hunting’ with my friends, much to her displeasure.
By this time, I had stopped going to school, and I did not know why, but I knew that some of our neighbours were leaving Port Harcourt, just like my mother had done with my other siblings.
So, there was nothing much to when my sister leaves for work. I join my friends to go to the waters of the creek, for fishing and periwinkles, which usually, do not get home with me.
It was during one such trip to the creeks, that we heard and saw a lot of people running about and gathering in groups.
Suddenly, we heard sound of military aircrafts (the sound is very different from that of civilian or commercial aircrafts), flying over head.
Eventually, people started pointing fingers towards a direction from which there was a lot of black smoke in the sky.
The said it was the Refinery at Afam, Eleme that had just been bombed by the aircrafts that flew past.
From that day, the aircrafts and the bombings continued, almost on a daily basis, we would here sirens sound, and people will shout ‘enemy planes’ and run outside, to watch the directions the aircrafts would fly to and soon enough, there would be black smoke in the sky.
We could not go fishing freely any more, even when my sister Meg was not around. People were afraid to go out.
Open fields were farmed with spiky bamboo stakes. As I learned later, it was to prevent paratroopers from landing in those fields.
After a while, my sister Meg said it was no longer safe for me to be with her I Port Harcourt, and decided to put me in a train bound for Omoba, so I could be safe with my mother and other siblings there.
She remained in Port Harcourt; only to arrive in Omoba not too long after I she had sent there with nothing.
No Property, no car. No nothing.
Port Harcourt had been captured by the Federal troops, who defeated the Biafran troops defending it...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I did not understand why then, but now, I understand that she had information that the war had started, and that it was better for us to be closer home.
So, all our things were packed into trucks, and they left for Omoba, leaving me behind, to stay with my sister Meg.
My sister Meg was not living with us. She had her own apartment.
The street where her house was located was close to the creeks, so I loved to go fishing and periwinkle ‘hunting’ with my friends, much to her displeasure.
By this time, I had stopped going to school, and I did not know why, but I knew that some of our neighbours were leaving Port Harcourt, just like my mother had done with my other siblings.
So, there was nothing much to when my sister leaves for work. I join my friends to go to the waters of the creek, for fishing and periwinkles, which usually, do not get home with me.
It was during one such trip to the creeks, that we heard and saw a lot of people running about and gathering in groups.
Suddenly, we heard sound of military aircrafts (the sound is very different from that of civilian or commercial aircrafts), flying over head.
Eventually, people started pointing fingers towards a direction from which there was a lot of black smoke in the sky.
The said it was the Refinery at Afam, Eleme that had just been bombed by the aircrafts that flew past.
From that day, the aircrafts and the bombings continued, almost on a daily basis, we would here sirens sound, and people will shout ‘enemy planes’ and run outside, to watch the directions the aircrafts would fly to and soon enough, there would be black smoke in the sky.
We could not go fishing freely any more, even when my sister Meg was not around. People were afraid to go out.
Open fields were farmed with spiky bamboo stakes. As I learned later, it was to prevent paratroopers from landing in those fields.
After a while, my sister Meg said it was no longer safe for me to be with her I Port Harcourt, and decided to put me in a train bound for Omoba, so I could be safe with my mother and other siblings there.
She remained in Port Harcourt; only to arrive in Omoba not too long after I she had sent there with nothing.
No Property, no car. No nothing.
Port Harcourt had been captured by the Federal troops, who defeated the Biafran troops defending it...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: BACK ACROSS THE NIGER BY BRIDGE, BUT THEY BLEW IT ...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: BACK ACROSS THE NIGER BY BRIDGE, BUT THEY BLEW IT ...: "...Eventually one evening, my sister Meg came from the East. It was around Christmas time, because she brought Christmas cards and gifts fro..."
BACK ACROSS THE NIGER BY BRIDGE, BUT THEY BLEW IT UP!!!!
...Eventually one evening, my sister Meg came from the East. It was around Christmas time, because she brought Christmas cards and gifts from my mother for everyone.
I missed my mother the more.
But my sister Meg said not to worry, that I would see my mother very soon, but that I should not tell anyone she said so, after I heard her talking with my father, and he was sounding angry.
The next day, she came to visit me in school, and bought me things.
The third day, she came to the school very early and took me away, with my brother Sunny.
We eventually got to a motor park and entered a vehicle and my sister Meg said we were going to see my mother. I was happy, but asked if my father was coming as well.
Well, my father did not come with us.
Again, I slept most of the way. I do not remember much of what happened on the way.
I however remember when we got to River Niger again, because my sister Meg woke me up, to look at the river from the bridge. There was a bridge this time.
I remember it was night.
The bridge seemed to stretch endlessly, as the vehicle drove through it.
The bridge was very beautiful, and the journey over it was smooth. We did not have to go on a ferry this time.
I was very sad when I heard later, as the war went on, that that beautiful bridge that made it easy for people to travel across the River Niger from Onitsha to Asaba, had been blown-up, and destroyed because of war...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I missed my mother the more.
But my sister Meg said not to worry, that I would see my mother very soon, but that I should not tell anyone she said so, after I heard her talking with my father, and he was sounding angry.
The next day, she came to visit me in school, and bought me things.
The third day, she came to the school very early and took me away, with my brother Sunny.
We eventually got to a motor park and entered a vehicle and my sister Meg said we were going to see my mother. I was happy, but asked if my father was coming as well.
Well, my father did not come with us.
Again, I slept most of the way. I do not remember much of what happened on the way.
I however remember when we got to River Niger again, because my sister Meg woke me up, to look at the river from the bridge. There was a bridge this time.
I remember it was night.
The bridge seemed to stretch endlessly, as the vehicle drove through it.
The bridge was very beautiful, and the journey over it was smooth. We did not have to go on a ferry this time.
I was very sad when I heard later, as the war went on, that that beautiful bridge that made it easy for people to travel across the River Niger from Onitsha to Asaba, had been blown-up, and destroyed because of war...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
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