MY STOLEN SELF, A Nigerian/Biafran War experience.
What did we know about wars? We were little then but we
still remembered the Catechist advising our parents to make medals, inscribed
with our names, the names of our parents and where we came from for us to wear
round our necks, that sounded funny but the Priests and the Catechist sounded
damn serious. #War was coming seems to
be the clear message, there was apprehension, palpable tension, and confusion
among the people in Obigbo, our little community but the radio stations gave my
dad assurances and hope for a better future in our country. My dad was a full
time #farmer; he had migrated from Etiti near #Umuahia to Obigbo-Asa which was
on the outskirts of #Port-Harcourt as you move from Aba to Port-Harcourt.
He got himself a plot of land, where he built his own house
and got married to the daughter of a fellow migrant, making this community the
place of birth of all his children including me. My dad doesn’t believe in
gossips, for him the truth only comes via the radio, so even when the songs
changed from that of assurances for a better future in our country to that of
solidarity to the #Aburi Accord he wasn’t bothered at all, as long as his goods
are still being sold, it is the responsibility of the Army and Politicians to
maintain security not him but soon enough war was on our borders but the Army
won’t stop with their assurances. Everything now was crystal clear, the panic
level soared, we became citizens of another country, our flag changed, so did
our national anthem but our location didn’t.
We are now the nationalist, defending our home land from
them; the bloody federalist. Stories of wars were rife, you can find people
huddled together discussing it, but we didn’t know nothing and so we were
afraid of nothing, everything only increased our curiosity until soldiers
started entering our community with severed hands of enemy soldiers and
saboteurs, you will hear people saying they saw it but little kids like us hand
no chance of seeing such. The exodus began gradually, people started to send
home some of their belongings, children and wives, but if the vehicle is
unlucky to run into an Army road block, they are promptly sent back with
assurances that nothing will happen, my father at a point decided with some
migrants that it is time for their children to leave, so they hired a bus,
which was covered with green leaves, we were giving loads of water-leaf
vegetables and we pretended as if we were go to sale them in a nearby market,
until we crossed the check points and got to a nearby bush where our bus was
parked, completely covered with green palm fronts, we all entered into the
vehicle and it took the bush parts to ensure that we do not run into more check
points, that was how we got home to Etiti, our place of origin, only the kids
though.
My parents were still in Obigbo when Port-Harcourt was
attacked gradually, actually from our position as my mum told us later, they
started pushing from the #Khana speaking areas and then moved towards #Afam,
sending those like my parents living in Obigbo on the run. Even at that my Dad
still believed that everything would be just fine, he trusted the words of the
nationalist and when my Mum decided to take home with her some of our
properties, he promptly refused and had them packed into his almighty boxes and
cupboard, locked everything and came back with a bunch of keys, hoping to
return after the temporary skirmishes that eventually became a thirty months
long war of untold sufferings, my parents had to trek on foot all the way from
Obigbo to Etiti later, my dad carrying nothing but a big bunch of keys, still
believing that at the end of the war, he would return to salvage all that he
had left.
My Dad had relocated to some town near #Nunya, where he was
doing some menial job and was sending the little money he could get for our
family’s upkeep, my mum had gone to the market one day and on her way back, she
met my former teacher at Obigbo, she was now one of the refugees living in my
community having came down from Obigbo as well. She was single, not poor and
hailed from somewhere in the then mid-west but was teaching at Obigbo before
they fled, those days we call them ‘’Miss’’ unlike now that female teachers are
called “Aunty” in every school. As someone we already knew and who is now
residing in our community, she became our family friend to the extent that she
at one time requested that I be allowed to stay with her and my Mum obliged
her. Staying with my teacher in my village was fun; she helped me academically,
and also allowed me visit my parents at will, she was very nice to me.
One day, Miss asked me to accompany her to her sister’s
place and I agreed but when the time came, I noticed that she had actually
packed up everything she had, I insisted on obtaining permission from my
parents but she refused, she told me that we will be back soon so I agreed and
entered the vehicle, little did I know that I had been stolen for good. She
took me to a place I later got to know was called ‘’#orsu-ihitte-ukwa” the spelling
may not be accurate. Initially she treated me nicely, bought me clothes and I
was very happy until one day she told me that I am now her daughter and she is
my mother and that I should forget about my village and my parents because she
was going to give me everything I desire, that I am a child she had acquired from
the war. I told her that I cannot be her daughter because I had a mother who
she begged before I came to stay with her and that she should take me home but
she got angry, she removed all the clothes on me, laid me down and flogged me
till my buttocks was swollen. Even after all that, I continued to call her Miss
instead of mother; she was infuriated and began to maltreat me in other to make
me bulge.
Seeing that her floggings were not working, she began to
send me to hawk garri around the village, she starved me most times as
punishments and in response I began to chew her #Garri any time am hungry and after doing that I would beg people for drinking water but she found
out equally that the quantity of the Garri that I do bring home after sales in
addition to the quantity sold were not measuring up to the total quantity I was
given to sale, it was usually short of about one or two cups and in response,
in addition to starving me, she began to beat me up every night until I got
used to being beating up. One day, I went to a ‘’mama- put’’ that is a road
side food vendor who was my customer and gave her extra cups of Garri after she
had made her normal purchase from me.
Instead of paying for that, I asked her to give me some food
to eat in its place and she gladly obliged. I was afraid of telling her my full
story because my aunty may get to know about it and I don’t know the
consequences for me. That evening when I got home, my aunty discovered that
more cups of garri where missing, she flogged me as usual and sent me to bed
thinking that I was being starved but unknown to her I was well fed by the
mama-put woman and was better prepared this time for her beating, as a matter
of fact, deep inside me, I was smiling to myself and what happened that day
became a regular practice.
One day I had gone to the stream to fetch water when
I overheard some people saying that the war has ended and that they would be
travelling back to their home town in Umuahia, I was so glad because I knew
that my house was close to Umuahia. I then told Boniface -a boy who was staying with the sister to my Miss, actually I got to
know that Boniface came from somewhere near my community, he was related to the
husband of the sister to my Miss, who we came to meet at Orsu ihitte ukwa, he
was not there against his will- that we need to follow these people when
they are going but he refused and instead reported me to my Miss, who called me
in for questioning that night. She demanded to know if that was what I said and
I said yes, she asked if I knew my way home and I said no, she got angry again,
she got me naked and flogged me until my buttocks as usual were swollen and I
wailed out of pain but I was undeterred. The next night, I begged our land lady
to leave the gates open for me, that I intend to leave the next morning, I
equally told her my story and she had pity on me, she asked if I can find my
way home and I said yes.
I must have slipped out of the gate as early as 3am, because
I never met anyone on my way, hawking garri round the town has giving me the
opportunity to scan the town and find the route from which we entered the town,
making useful inquiries, such that the moment I escaped, I headed for that
direction swiftly without looking back, I ran as much as my tiny legs could
carry me until I got to ‘’Eke Ututu’’ their market, I was so afraid approaching
the market, it seems there was a huge fire burning in the center of the market
but I was determined not to turn back, I continued till I went through the
market without seeing any fire but when I looked back it appeared to still be
there, I was scared and so I ran again until I got exhausted then I went to
sleep on the door step of a nearby house.
I heard a noise in my sleep but before I could open my eyes,
a hand grabbed me, and without thinking, I pulled back forcefully, freed myself
and ran as fast as I could, the voice shouted ‘’who are you,’’ ‘’stop,’’ ‘’come
back,’’ but I disappeared, my heart pounding, I did never stopped again until I
met a man and his family who were travelling and so I joined them, they were
surprised because I was too small to be travelling alone at that time of the
morning, and so they asked me some questions, and I told them my story as we
were travelling together and they all had pity on me.
When we got to a certain
junction, they said I should continue on the other direction while they take
the other one because they are going to a village called #Umuaka and so we
parted ways.
After I left them, I continued walking alone until I started
seeing other travelers going about in different directions by then it was
already mid day, then I saw I group of soldiers travelling together on foot,
one of them was holding a beautiful parrot on his hand and they were speaking
pidgin English and probably Hausa language, it was obvious that they were
#Hausa people, that was how we refer to all northerners in the east. So when I came close enough to them I told
the one holding the parrot that his bird was beautiful in pidgin, they glanced
at me and he smiled, so I requested that he allow me to carry the bird for him
and he did, so I walked with them. I was
so happy walking with them for I said in my mind that should my Miss appear
suddenly to try and force me back, I would
tell the soldiers and they would use their gun to shoot her down, so I
felt very protected and very happy too walking with them. Some times when we
are passing through a community, people would rush out to stare at us, I would
hear them saying, ‘’ oh! Look at this poor little girl, the army people had
abducted her as well, but what will they do with so small a child? The soldiers
saw them but did not understand what they were saying because they said it in
Igbo language.
We got to a junction, and the soldier collected back his
parrot and gave me ’’shiny abua” two penny,-the
Nigerian money then in coins- he told me to continue going straight and
asking questions that I will get to my village but that they are taking the
other route because they are going to a place called #Abagana, I never heard
such a name before, so I continued alone till it was dark, I rested once again
in front of a locked house but this time I was too scared to fall asleep, I
might have dosed off a few times but I never really slept until it was morning and
I jumped back onto the road and continued. Again I saw a man travelling with
his family and I joined them, the man had a bicycle, his youngest child was
sitting atop the bicycle while the back seat was carrying a load of household
items, his older children and his wife were walking behind him as he pushed the
bicycle, walking beside it. We continued to walk along until I begged them to
wait a little for me, so that I can defecate in the nearby bush and they did,
even their children used the opportunity to urinate.
The moment I stepped into the bush, standing in front of me
was a pot that looked rather longish, I have never seen that kind of pot before
but I was happy, since am not carrying anything while everybody is carrying
something, I decided that I will take this one to my mum at least, so I moved
closer to retrieve it, then I discovered that things unknown to me where loaded
inside so I went and informed the family about my new discovering and the man
shouted with such a high pitched voice, he almost cried, he thanked God for
saving my life and that of his family who were standing a few centimeters from
the place I vied into, even his wife shivered and tears stood their eyes, they
said that what I saw was not a cooking pot of any sort but was an #Ogbunigwe, a
kind of local landmine or bomb put in place by the #Biafran soldiers against
the invading federal troops. I did not know what an Ogunigwe was, but I
definitely had heard about bombs and it effects so we hurried up immediately
and left that area.
We continued our journey until we got to a market called ‘’#Eke-ezela’’
and they took another direction and directed me the other way, I continued on
that way until I saw a man who said that he was going to Umuahia, I was so
happy and I joined him. We walked and walked till late in the night but I did
something bad which I did regret till this day. We got to “#Orie-Agu” market,
my heart was beating so hard once again but this time with joy and then we got
to our own market “#Orie-Mbara” and I thanked the man and told him that I have
gotten to my village and so could find my way to our house. He begged to follow
me to our house so that he can pass the night there, since it was late in the
night but I refused, I in fact begged him not to follow me to our house because
it was too late at night, I didn’t know why I had to say that but the man left
and I had been regretting it ever.
I made my way quietly to my father’s compound, everyone had
gone to bed, then I knocked on the door of our house and shortly the door
opened, it was my mother, she could not believe her eyes, she shouted out of
joy and everyone woke up and came running towards the door, she grabbed me
tightly against her chest and took me inside the house, they all surrounded me
as I sat down, including my father who was away when my mother obliged the
request of my Miss to have me stay with her. When she suddenly disappeared
without a trace and my dad came back to find out that was missing, all the
blame went to my mum in fact, and some mischief makers in the village accused
her of selling me in exchange for salt which was a very rare and expensive
commodity during the war. I was too weak and too hungry to talk, but I was so
happy to be home, to see my parents and my siblings again, my mum served me some
food and after eating I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up very late the next morning to discover that I
could not move my legs any more, they were as heavy as anything and swollen to
the extent that I thought it would burst open any moment, I was treated for
weeks before I could use my legs again, that was the story of my “stolen self”.
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