MAY, 2004 (A TRUE LIFE STORY)

This is a short story that I will wrap up soonest. Your comments and views are welcome.

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All my life I've been hearing of stories of riots that had happened in the country. A young lad was I that had inspiration to become a lawyer then or at most a banker. I was good with my pen at that age and also with my balance sheets. I could also argue for Africa but never was I given a chance to participate in debates. The reason was I had speech defect. It wasn't exactly a disease. I just spoke too fast that it took careful listening to understand whatever it was that I was saying.

Born in the State of Kano in the early '90s, I grew up with the reality of having to evade the many almajiris that called for our blood. They used this term on us which I had thought to mean a Christian before. "Ar'naye". If you asked me then in Hausa,

"Kai daga wanne addini ne?"
*You are of what religion?*

In my innocence I'd answer:

"Ni ar'na ne."

I never knew my answer meant, "I am an infidel." The almajiris were always chasing us or breaking our heads with rocks so we virtually stayed inside our compound in Tudun Maliki, Zoo Road, Kano. One dared not look for trouble and your parents would be insulted indiscriminately without you having the power to react. Your reaction meant automatic wound on your head. I cannot count the number of times my head was stoned. I only got stitched once though. My head was strong.

In the night, we would crowd ourselves on the staircase of our neighbors and listen to moonlight stories. Those stories were always interesting. We would be told about the tortoise and his many adventures, about the rabbit and it's quick mouth and feet, the spider that had infallible wisdom and finally about the good and the bad family. The good always prevailed and the tortoise always entered into trouble. We only dispersed to our various houses at the shout of "NEPA!". By then we would watch the television till we fell asleep. The following day was always the same routine for us kids. The holidays were promising and fun. Even though we seldom travelled, we always had stories. Life was fun for the kids and manageable for the adults.

General Abdulsalam Abubakar had handed power back to the civilians in the person of Chief Olusegun Obasanjo. The 9/11 terrorists attacks on the World Trade Center held sway. Posters of the carnage was on every corner of the streets and people talked about it. Osama Bin Laden was the name on the lips of everyone then. People wondered what George Bush's counter action would be. He did not disappoint. He sent the US Army in to smoke Bin Laden out.

Then came the talks of Sharia law. A law that proposed cutting of hands in the case of stealing and women covering themselves with big hijab. Back then, a Hausa woman covered herself with "mayyafi". It is a veil that they used to cover their heads and throw across their shoulders. When the call for Sharia law gained momentum, hijab became a norm. Big ones for that matter. Hisbah was formed and 'yan Korso disappeared from Kano. These are the traditional Hausa dancers. You will find them at Gidan Zoo doing their thing. They performed daredevilry stunts and we as kids copied them. They were labeled "karuwai", prostitutes, arrested, while the others went into hiding.

As kids in Primary school, we attended Lipson Quality Nursery and Primary School. A long distance from home. It was there I saw the first display of violence but I did not understand because I was still a little child with a carefree mind. But even as a child, I witnessed tribalism firsthand. Funny enough, I knew it would take grace for us not to get killed that day.

To be continued....
#JoeyWrites

Beautiful intro

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Nice work Joey, you write well.


#HeroicDeeds

MAY, 2004 (2)

The year was 2001 and we were in primary school. I, my sister and my elder brother who schooled in De-Larfel, a secondary school, all in Shagari Quarters. I remember coming to school that morning with my sister and elder brother who branched and went to his own school. After the morning assembly, we all went to our classes and teaching for the day started.

I don't know what drew me out of the class that morning. Maybe it was to ease myself or play some pranks with my friends that I came outside. After maneuvering the turn that led me to the building where the restroom of the school lied, I came upon my mother and the headmaster, Mr. Phillip. My mother comes to the school once in a blue moon. Sometimes to pay our fees, other times to attend to one thing or another. I and my sister always bragged that not even one student had seen our dad. I was happy to see Mama but I dared not show it else the headmaster will have my head. I checked myself well to see that my shirt was well tucked into my shorts. And my shoe lace was not dangling.

As I walked close to them, I overheard Mr. Phillip saying to my mother:

"Sister Hassan, go back home. God is in control. He will protect the children."

Mother shook her head vigorously. "God is in control that's why I am here to pick my children. I advice you to allow other children go so that they can reunite with their families. I saw those 'yandabba with huge knives, cutlasses, cudgels, giant sickles and go-to-hells. They should be here anytime soon."

"Hmmm, Sister Hassan", Mr. Phillip called my mother, "are you sure you are not adding your stories just to allow me let your children go?"

"You can say whatever you like. Just give my kids to me."

Mother was adamant. Mr. Phillip stood thinking for a while with his hand scratching his chin. He wanted to say something when the gate burst open and a fat woman sauntered into the school compound. This one wasn't smiling and was not doing sister sister like my mother. Her eyes were red and her voice near hysterical.

"Mr. Phillip, give me my children let me go. These Hausa people have started again. They are burning tires and shops at Zoo Road."

Nobody noticed me. I was just inconsequential. Before Mr. Phillip could react to that one too, a man barged inside. The headmaster needed no more again to be convinced that the situation was a critical one. Funny thing is, he turned to me without looking around. That means he had noticed my presence a long time ago.

"You, go to primary five and tell them to ring the bell."

It was still morning and we had just left the assembly a while back. Now imagine ringing the bell at that period. The first thing that comes to the mind of a child is break period and play. So when the sound of the bell tore through the school, the scream that followed was a joyful one. As children poured out of their classrooms, they saw the headmaster and the assistant headmaster standing. Teachers that followed the children just to know what's wrong saw the duo and joined them on the raised platform meant for teachers while the assistant class teachers stayed at the rear to control the children and make them form an orderly line.

"Good morning children..."

Mr. Phillip began a speech he did not finish. The gate swung open and a woman screamed.

"Give me my children. Do you them to die? The 'yandabba are already headed in this direction."

That was when all hell broke lose. My mother was standing with us on the line already so she just grabbed us and dragged us through the gate before the pandemonium of people trying to pass through the gate at once. Children were crying looking for their parents. Parents who came to pick their wards and saw the catasylmic mumbo jumbo that was happening burst out into tears. When we got outside the gate, there, outside in his slightly pink uniform was my brother. Mother had gone to pick him from his school first before making her way to ours.

"Oya, kume gwonyu ola me owo. Kanyi ka ko lo."
*Alright, you all should hold hands together, hurry up and let's get going.*

And thus the journey began. We started walking and running home. But home was far for the way was still long. At the end or beginning of the street, depending on which way you used to enter 11th Street, Shagari Quarters, lied a giant football field. We cross the field daily on our way home, follow through Sabon Madille down to Sheka market before bursting out in Tudun Maliki.

After crossing the field, still holding unto ourselves, we faced the Sabon Madille road. But down the street were people coming chanting war songs or more like reciting:

"La ihla ah ihla la!"

While some shouted:

"Allahu Akbar!"

We screeched to a halt. Mama was confused as to where to go. But I had an idea. In front of us was my classmate house, Abbas. I looked at my mother.

"Mama, see my friend for school house here. Make we go there."

Truly, Abbas, still in his school uniform stood outside with his mother and some other women. The women were talking excitedly on top of their voices. My mother dragged us and approached them.

"Dan Allah, gasu nan zuwa. Ku 'boye ni da 'yayyar ta."
*I beg you in the name of God, hide me and my kids. The bad guys are coming.*

I had smiled and waved at Abbas but the look he gave me was cold. Mother while making that speech was advancing at the same time. The other women on hearing the news ran into the house while one stood and barred mama from getting in.

"Ai ni bazan bar kafirai su shigo mini gida ba."
*I'm not going to allow infidels into my house.*

With that she bolted the door, right there on our faces. Mother knocked hard on the door but it wasn't opened. One way home was blocked already by the advancing 'yandabba. Remaining the other, which is through 4th Street express road. Mother had initially said we wouldn't follow there as it was dangerous.

"Haba Hajiya. Ki yi musu afua. Koma ba dan ita ba, ki duba jinjjirai da suka hannun ta. Ki tausayya mata ki bar su su shigo. Nan da mintina talatin, zasu wuce gida."
*Please Hajiya, consider them. Even if it is not for the woman, think about the kids she is holding. Have pity on her and allow them enter. In thirty minutes time, they should be on their way.*

A voice pleaded passionately on our behalf. Soon the gate unlatched and the woman who had earlier locked the gate beckoned on us to come. My mother declined.

"Ni bazan shiga ba ki zo ki tura ni waje in suka zo."
*I will not enter for you to later push me outside when they come.*

Then she added.

"Oya hold your hands. We will follow the road and by God's grace we will get to the house with no one stopping us on the way."

We headed home using the road which was totally lonely. No bikes, no cars, no humans. We got home in one piece. The gate to the house was already locked. When it was opened, we realized that everybody had returned home. Even my father. He had gone to pick my elder brothers from their schools. My uncles too had left their places too with some neighbours who couldn't stay in their own houses. Everyone reunited. Then we waited patiently. We waited to see if we would be attacked.


To be continued...

#JoeyReminisces

Despirado121:
Beautiful intro

Thank you bro.

wucky:
Wow!!! So following this

You are so welcome...

Davidhero:
Following...

Nice work Joey, you write well.

#HeroicDeeds

Thank you bro... Enjoy the ride...

Following....

shurley22:
Following....

Sannu da zuwa

Chai!!! Nice 1 bt I want to knw wat will happen nxt oo. Nxt plzzz

Woow...

How old were you then, when you experienced all these?



Pls don't stay too long before u give us the next update.

my brother..... i say I must write on ur thread o....cause all what was happening that day I was there,I witness all...it was even our house that was burnt.......yes that house facing the zoo....
if u don't mind please chat me up on whatsapp maybe we knew each other then....and I can still give u my own side of de story to add to ur.(if u don't mind).
07031344656.

MAY 2004 (3)

Here, we waited patiently. Tension was everywhere. Kids did not involve themselves in that game. We were busy playing with ourselves or crowding around the adults to hear their stories. They told stories of all the riots they had witnessed. Others told stories of the Civil War. Reinhard Bonkhe's story took the lead. How he had placed a curse on the State of Kano and how the curse is manifesting. It was crazy. The reason behind the curse they had said was because of the fact that he was chased from Kano with only a shoe on his leg. Strange story I tell you.

It was also during that time frame that the "men" in the house started talking about defending themselves and not folding arms and allowing themselves to be slaughtered like cattle.

"See, for Kaduna, we no deh allow them. Na arrow for arrow, bullet for bullet and knife for knife. If them do anyhow, na so we dey follow them with fire."

Baba Sarah said that morning. Yes, it was still morning because of the whole unrest.

"Na only mouth them get. If them see gun self, them no go fit operate am."

Someone chipped in drawing approval from others. I believed that talk too. Maybe because I had not experienced what shooting was like or did not see the distant future and the emergence of Boko Haram. That theory has long been proven wrong. Train a dog well and it will definitely shoot a gun for you.

"Make we prepare. Once them come, the women and the children go enter bush (there is this uncompleted building that was overgrown with bushes that laid to the left of the compound. Another was by the right.) while the rest of us go face them man for man."

Boy was I proud to be in that gathering. I saw courage speaking but looking back now, I realized that it was being done for the sake of the women and children. To give them a false feeling of safety. Let me digress a little to the future, 20th January, 2012 to be precise. When the attacks on virtually every police barracks in the city of Kano was going on, we stayed in the house and contemplated. It was that moment when the gunshots sounded like it was getting closer that my brother's friend suggested we build bombs of our own. We had petrol, bottles and pieces of rags. You got it, monotov cocktail. According to him, we shouldn't go down without a fight. And we built it. Well, it gave us a false sense of safety but we knew we stood no chance if the AK47s come blazing.

My father was the first to go into the house. He returned with six machetes. New ones. I know he had one, where the remaining five materialized from still remains a mystery. Then Baba Sarah went into his own room and returned with a sword. An actual sword that is sheathed. Baba Ify brought his own and very soon everyone in the compound was crawling out with his own weapon. As kids we were elated. I in particular was proud of my dad. He had set the pace. Come what may, if the attackers should gain access into the compound, I will pick my own weapon since the number of weapons was more than the number of the actual users.

Moments later we started hearing chants. God, the silence that crept into every one of the adults is better imagined.

"Shey telephone dey this compound. Make we call police."

Brilliant idea from my father. Three of the adults, a woman and two men plus my father rushed into the room that had a land-line. Cellular phone (not handset as it is presently called) was not in vogue then. I had seen Hajiya making use of it. Big wireless stuff. I managed to follow them into the flat without drawing attention. Whilst inside, my father dialed the number of the police and was speaking calmly. Others stood by the window and was peeking outside. Alhaji Bako, an Alhaji and a neighbour opposite the compound sat in front of his house with a friend.

"Thank God say Alhaji Bako dey there. Nothing go happen. Him no go allow them enter the compound."

Someone seemed to be saying. It was the same moment that the ferocious chanting got so close. Father that was all gentlemanly on the phone changed his voice.

"You mean there is no petrol? See, come with your men, I will pay for the fueling. Come with everything, we are under attack!"

If the policeman at the other end had heard and acted, I know not to this day. What I remember is sighting the 'yandabba for the first time in my entire life. They were much and their weapons was mad, like really mad. Their voices sounded like the roars of the lions that were caged in the zoo a little distance from the house. My mouth was agape as they passed while my father kept trying to convince the police. The bad guys passed and the house was not attacked, all thanks to God and maybe, Alhaji Bako.

That night my father packed us all in the car and straight to Bompai barracks we went. We only heard stories and shared stories on our return the following morning.

The story did not end there. And in case you are wondering, it was a spill over of the Sharia riots in Kaduna. Three years later, 2004, another carnage took place, the starting point being Jos, Plateau State. This time we were in a different location and yes, we were in school too.


To be continued...
#JoeyReminisces

Bankz007:
my brother..... i say I must write on ur thread o....cause all what was happening that day I was there,I witness all...it was even our house that was burnt.......yes that house facing the zoo....
if u don't mind please chat me up on whatsapp maybe we knew each other then....and I can still give u my own side of de story to add to ur.(if u don't mind).
07031344656.

I will get there pretty soon then I will leave the thread open...

FoxyFlow:


I will get there pretty soon then I will leave the thread open...

OMG!! !! My husband grew up in Kano too nd he used to gist me about the attacks. There was a time they fought back, he was only a boy then. The igbos fought back, secondary school boys, even primary, men.. .. He talked about making explosives to. I can't recall the area. They used to stay there until they moved to sabongari ( highly populated by igbos so assumed safer)

Their house in sabongari has been vacant for years. He ND His siblings grew up and left Kano, his mum finally left during the emergence of bokoharam. The properties they have in Kano isn't bringing in much des days as it seems Kano is now a shadow of itself. Nd d few tenants who stayed back are finding it hard to pay rent.

How did we get to this??

Plz ride on, more ink to your pen Foxy, I always enjoy ur threads/ write-ups.

interesting...

MAY 2004 (4)

Dedicated to my Aunt...

"Everyone is a storyteller, the problem is not all have found their audience."
Joey, 2017

It was quicker to forget the riots because my family was not directly affected. Lives returned to normal and everyone soon started mixing with everyone again like nothing ever happened. The only thing was my father sending us to school in Abuja. My sister and I had finished primary school then and according to him, it was better starting a new life in Abuja. Not really a new life but that we should be far from the family and also in a safe place.

Before going to Abuja though, we went to my hometown. There was a wedding. My aunt, the younger sister of my father got married. Painful thing is, I received news of her death today. I am still in shock. May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen! I will forever miss her. Some things I know today, I learnt from her. My family is a family of story tellers. Everyone knows how to paint vivid pictures. My aunt had her own style. She talks with a faraway look in her eyes. She had seen a lot I tell ya.

On our return from Abuja, the landlord of the house passed on and his children sold the house. Quit notice was served and we had to move out. The destination was Shagari Quarters, 13th Street, house number 263. Before I and my sister returned from Abuja, we already had a dog in the house. Lizzy was its name. Beautiful half breed fair dog. Loved that dog to the core men.

Shagari Quarters unlike Tudun Maliki is more quiet and more serene. One thing about it sha was the mind your business mentality that everybody had. Since all the houses were fenced people minded their businesses. Nobody looked out for anybody and most adults stayed inside. The only people that came out were kids and young boys that loved football. Almajiris hardly entered into the houses and they were less. There is another area after Shagari Quarters called Madille.

I will have to pause here today. The words are not coming together to string this story. The death of my aunt weighs heavily on me. I keep thinking about how I will never see her again. Her trademark laughter and how she reminds me so much of my dad, like the feminine side of him. Their walk is the same and how they talk. So deep.

A tribute to her:

DEATH...
Look upon me
Yes, cast your gaze here
I want us to talk
In words we'd understand

Do you know
That you bring pains
And have caused tears
Sorrows and more deaths?
Your coming bring it
For the heart loves
And yearns
And follows to the grave.

You stole her away
No excuse
No warning at all
You just did

Tell me
If there is something greater than you
That comes to steal your loved ones
Will you be glad?
Will you sing songs too
And stay awake all night?
Will you watch dried eyes
As the earth swallows up your people?

In the end though
The good book says
You will be swallowed in hell
You and all that brings pains

Dear aunt
I know you are safe now
The pains all gone
The place better
From heaven you'll watch
Look over us
And when our hearts beats
You will whisper through the wind
To tell us it is all right.

Will miss you Aunty....
Rest in peace....

To be continued...

#JoeyReminisces

May God give u d fortitude to bear yor lose... With a heavy heart, I say RIP to the dead..

Sorry for your loss bro

Sorry for your loss foxy. May her soul rest in peace and may God give you and yours the fortitude to bear

Sorry for your loss, God's grace to fill the vaccum she left.

Foxyflow! sorry for your loss.
mallam, kai dan "igede" ne?

Sorry for the loss may jah give you the fortitude to bear her death.I can still remember most of the riots it was very scary thou my family lives in Sabon gari

Take heart Dear... Be strong

Sorry for d loss. So sad, May her soul rest in perfect peace.

Good morning... We are back online. Phew... How una dey my people? Well, I received y'all condolences with a pure mind. God bless all of Una...

Allah dame it!!!!! Foxy you just made me remember kano gaskiya, Sorry for your loss. But I must say u are a story telling"dan iska' no offence meant. You are good.

MAY 2004 (Episode 5)

"You see life, you see destiny? One has a way of fucking the other up."
Joey, 2017

Kano was relatively peaceful after we moved to Shagari Quarters. The executive Governor of the State, Dr. Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso made sure the presence of security was felt. You would see truckloads of military guys patrolling every Friday to forestall any attack that would begin after the Jumat prayers. It was also during that period that a strong integration was built between the Hausa and the Fulani. There, the Hausa-Fulani came to be.

To be candid, everyone that wasn't from Kano loved Kwankwaso to the core. People could not wait for 2003 elections to reelect him for a second tenure. I was a kid then but I campaigned massively for Kwankwaso during the campaign periods for him amongst my friends and colleagues. The downturn thing though was what we overheard the Hausa people saying.

"Ai bai zai ci zabe nan ba. Tin da bai bar mu ci uban arnaye nan ba."
*He is not going to win the election since he refused us killing these infidels!*

That statement has a thousand meanings attached to it so we expected the worst. A relatively unknown Mallam Ibrahim Shekarau, came out of the blues under the platform of ANPP to defeat Kwankwaso in the gubernatorial elections. It was crazy. There was a wild jubilation. The people had gotten their heart desires. Kwankwaso had to step aside for Shekarau to take the reins of leadership. We expected the worst but how the worst came, we did not expect. It was so lethal and devastating. I will tell you about it.

As a kid, I had always been keen on politics. Not one who argues but I was an avid reader. I consumed any and everything. There was no way I wouldn't pick a piece of newspaper on the ground. I used this to keep myself updated on the happenings around the country or at most I watch the television. Initially father made me do it but along the line I took interest and always looked forward to NTA news by 9pm. When AIT came to Kano, it made things easier. But who knew that NTA wouldn't talk about the crisis brewing in Jos in the year 2004. I heard about it as discussions from our neighbors. They said something about killings and revenge killings. Lest I skip this part, our Uncle was staying with us.

His name was Phillip. My mum's brother. He worked in Sharada Phase 2 in one of the numerous companies sprawled around the industrial area. He had worked with a Sweet producing company before proceeding to work with Nigeria Pipeline or something close to that. It was a company that produced pipes. He would leave the house early in the morning and return in the evening after we came back from school. Even though he was annoying sometimes, he was totally fun to be with and mother always gisted with him. He had gotten his own place and was preparing to move out of the house. He was even talking about a wife and from the little snippet I got from their discussions then, he was married earlier but his wife had left him and returned to her father house. That was one of the many reasons he had left our hometown and relocate to Kano State.

That morning he had woken up and while we got set for school he was extraordinarily playful. He kept cracking jokes and was not in a hurry to go to work. Even when mother had told him several times. He still wasn't listening to her.

"Ehen, Iye Aladi, u nona ni uda mu'ako."
*Ehen, Mama Aladi, I dreamt I was catching flying termites.*

He told mother. He had a smile on his face. I looked at my mother. I knew dreams had significance and mother placed a lot of priority on this. Her dreams always come to pass but then, I did not know about my Uncle's.

"What?!"

Mother wasn't smiling. I could see a mixture of fear and anxiety on her face. Phillip only shrugged. I will write this one in English, I no know how to put am for Language abeg.

"Your dream means that someone will die in your place."

Wow, what an interpretation. It was the first time I was hearing that. Once upon a time I used to take my dreams serious but along the line, I just realized that my wild imaginations follows me to bed. I don't know about others but as a child and even as an adult I dream impossible things. If I am not Superman today, I am Batman tomorrow or I will find myself chilling with beautiful models. But I have a knack of giving accurate predictions but it doesn't come to me in my dreams. It comes as a flash and I just say it. Very accurate I tell you.

"I know that is the interpretation. We were told that as kids. But the truth is I don't want anybody to die for me. If it is death, let me die and go and rest."

Uncle Phillip answered mother casually. The way he said it without any care in the world kind off untied the knot that was tying in my stomach.

"Stop saying that you this boy. That is how you will be playing with serious things." Mum held her ear. "Don't go to work today. Leave it till tomorrow. I believe you can always tell them that you were sick." she added.

"No, I have to go to work. I will see you this evening."

With that he hung a towel around his neck and went into the bathroom while I left for school with my sister. Top Quality College located at Tukuntawa. The day was bright and rain had not really started falling in Kano then.

To be continued....

#JoeyReminisces

very scary

wow! this held me spellbound!

mulan21:
Allah dame it!!!!! Foxy you just made me remember kano gaskiya, Sorry for your loss. But I must say u are a story telling"dan iska' no offence meant. You are good.

Please contact me through my WhatsApp contact. It is on my signature. I seem to be having difficulties signing into my mail and I wonder why....