This last update is quite frightening

kelvinhilton:
This last update is quite frightening

looks like uncle Philip is not coming back alive

khalifahsparkles:



looks like uncle Philip is not coming back alive

Think so too.. I don't really read meanings to dream. I just ignor dem.

MAY, 2004 (Episode 6)

We were writing Junior WAEC then. It was that period I came to know that it wasn't the WAEC Board that sets WAEC questions but the Kano State Education Board. I cannot remember the subject we were writing that day but I can still remember a number of my classmates. Classmates that left Kano after that period and had never looked back. There Anthony Izedonmi, Jesse Isibor, the Ibru brothers, Wolimat, Jecinta, name them. They were much. I haven’t been able to make contact with them but I am now friends with Anthony on Facebook. As for Jesse, I have his number on WhatsApp. We were in school that morning. It was after the morning Assembly and JSS3 was waiting for whomever the board would send with their exam questions. I think SSS3 was also writing the Senior WAEC during that period.

“See as this exams dey make sense. Na so their Simeon dey tell us talk say during their time them no fit spell ordinary IS because of the tension.”

Someone said drawing laughter from all of us.

“No mind them. Na because of say them dull.”

Funny enough, this is how most students feel. When they come to a class whose senior had complained about and found it relatively easy, they tend to make fun of the seniors. I was roaming around the class. Typical of me. I had too much energy inside of me and I cannot remember having a permanent seat in class. If I seat at the front today, the following day, you will find me seating at the back. Let me digress a little for the fun of it. Some people are already commenting on the scariness of the story.

Once upon a time, we had this teacher of English Language, Mr. George. He was a no nonsense tutor and could use your own belt to flog the demon out of your body. He was also a good teacher and made his class lively. Our form master then, Mr. Sylvester always referred to him as:

“George, George! George in my house.”

We the students always mimicked this at home but did not dare do it in school. This was because of what would befall us if we tried it. One blessed morning, Mr. George walked into the class and after the routine “good morning Sir, we are happy to see you, may God bless you” greeting, which of a truth we never meant, he told us to seat down. Tell me, which student is happy to see his teacher? And one who doesn’t hesitate to use the cane at that matter?

“Ramatu, come out.”

We were surprised. We wondered what had happened but we did not wait for long to be let into the whole story.

“Abdullahi Badiru, give me your belt.”

Gang an! It has happened.

“So because you saw me in front of your mother’s shop, you had the effrontery to refer to me as George, George, George in my house eh? Do you think we are mate or is it because I joke a lot with you people?”

When the cane fell on her palms, it was until the belt cut into two that he stopped flogging her and for the first time since I knew Ramatu in school, she did not weep. Not even a drop of tear fell out of her eyes and she was so small then. Who would believe that Ramatu who was always scared of canes and hid under the table could chest cane, not just cane, Uncle George’s? I tell you, when you are guilty of something, you don’t really care anymore. You just take the punishment. Looking back now though, I just realized that it wasn’t a good thing to had flogged her that way. It was Nigerian mentality at play.

So that day passed (the day of Ramatu’s reckoning) and life continued. I did not know mine was slowly coming to pass. This time I was at the back. I, Idris Musa and John Adoji. We were actually seatmates or one thing brought us together, women! Uncle George strolled as usual into class and started his teaching. Idris was telling us raunchy tales while John Adoji and I listened with rapt attention. They were not listening to the teacher but I was actually listening and gisting at the same time.

“Joseph, what was the last thing I said?”

You know this normal question? I stood up and answered. He asked Idris a question from what he was teaching but Idris couldn’t answer and same with John. He brought them out and added me as an afterthought. When he asked them what we were discussing about at the back of the class, Idris answered thus, implicating us further.

“Joseph was teaching us how to speak Chinese.”

Who would want to tell the teacher that he was discussing about naked women and girls? The class burst into laughter but Uncle George did not laugh. No, his eyes turned red. The last thing he said before the caning started was:

“You are teaching Chinese in a class that had English Language going on Joseph? Climb that desk, jump and make sure you hang in the air like Iron Monkey. For each time you touch the ground, I will give you ten strokes of the cane. Idris, climb the wall like Spiderman and as for you John Adoji...” he raised a bag very high into the sky, “stretch your leg and make sure it touches this bag.”

For the first time, I knew “Impossibility is something!” Forget that Adidas advert.

To be continued....

#JoeyReminisces

Omg!
Joey? From YRC?

daremiarchs:
Omg! Joey? From YRC?

Yes...

FoxyFlow:


Yes...

After you na you o Baba

Updates coming up...!

MAY, 2004 (Episode 7)

It was our IRK teacher, Malam Saleh that walked into the class that morning. He is a very tall man or used to look very tall in my eyes. As soon as he came in, he called my sister and I. He told us our mother was outside looking for us. Now this is strange. Mother hardly or had never been to our school since we entered into Secondary school. The only person that had come a couple of times was my father. Not to pay school fees though but when he came to register us initially and pay all the bills. By second term, when we were in JSS2, the banking system was introduced. Every student obtained a teller from the school and head to Union Bank along Zoo/Dangi Road to pay. So saying mother was at the gate was a bit disconcerting. We did not suspect anything bad though. I thought maybe she had forgotten something.

We went outside our class and took the path that led towards the gate. We had to cross a river first. It is more like a drainage system. I don’t even know the source not to talk about where it ended. One can see that stuff as far as Shagari Quarters, 21st Street. As we stepped into the large compound that served as our playground for the secondary section of the school, there, under one of the trees was my mother chatting excitedly (not in a good way o) with the Proprietor, Uncle Charles. As we got closer, I heard my mother saying to Uncle Charles,

“See, the moment I saw them I knew there is trouble. The had huge machetes, sticks and those long sickles. They were all going to the central mosque at Dangi. When I enquired from a neighbor that sells close to me, he said that they were going to pray for the corpses they brought from Jos. Then he further asked me if I wasn’t aware of the Jos crisis. I said I am o but I did not know it was this serious.”

Uncle Charles had his signature smile. The same smile he would wear on his face and still flog you ten strokes of the cane on your buttocks straight without frowning. You would be the one that would either seat on one face of your buttocks or not seat down at all.

“Madam, you are raising unnecessary alarm. You know we see these things daily. Nothing is going to happen.”

He said to my mother in a soothing voice. I smiled as I stood beside them. Mother would definitely have her way and I would be home in no time.

“Ha! You are saying the same thing your brother said many years ago Sir.”

Okay, let me pause here and give a brief history of my school. When I got admitted into the school as a child, it was known as Quality Nursery and Primary School. It was being run by a man called Uncle Philip. He is a member (don’t know if he is anymore though) of Deeper Life Bible Church. So it is natural to find brothers and sisters in the Lord sending their kids to the school. He is a great storyteller. He taught in the children section and we always looked forward to his many stories then as children. Also in that school then as a classroom teacher was Uncle Charles. He was the younger brother to Uncle Philip.

One day we just came to school and we were told that the school has been divided. Not exactly divided though. A new branch had been created on 11th Street, Shagari Quarters and anyone that wants to attend that one is free to. It’s name is Lypson Quality Nursery and Primary School. As kids, we followed our elder brother, Michael to school. By then, our other brother, Henry had passed out and was already schooling in De-larfel secondary school. So when my brother told us that we should go to the new school, we naturally went with him. So my mother knew both the Elder and Younger brother of the Quality Schools.

“He said that?”

Uncle Charles asked.

“Sure, but I did not agree with him like I am not going to agree with you now. I will take my kids with me like I took them too because I did not want a repetition of what happened then to happen now. This time we may not be lucky when we meet these bloodsuckers on the road.”

Mother was adamant.

“Okay Madam, you can take your children but you should know that they are writing Junior WAEC and if they fail it is your fault.”

He played the psychology card on her.

“They are not going to fail. Just watch and see. One thing I am sure about is that those people are coming back and if they do, it is not going to be funny.”

That was how we were handed over to my mother. We got outside to meet our younger brothers, Moses and Ernest outside. I looked at my mother and enquired of our elder brother.

“I no get time go court road go carry am but make we pray say him come house come meet us. Oya hold their Moses make we begin go.”

Michael had left De-Larfel a long time ago and was already schooling at Frambeat. The school is located along Court Road. I don’t know if the school still stands there though. We started our journey while mother told us how the eyes of those people were bloodshot and how one had pointed his machete at her and said:

“Bari dai na dawo na same ki a nan. Ba za ki ji dadin jikin ki ba.”
*Wait till I return and meet you here. You will not find it funny.*

She said she had to close shop and rush to Fountain International School in Tudun Maliki to pick my brothers. They were still in Primary School at that time. She said she had been outside for a while trying to make Uncle Charles see reason but he was just as stubborn as his brother. She prayed that the other students parents come pick them up on time and that God should protect everyone in the school building. A school of over five hundred or more students combining both the Primary and Secondary school together. People were still on the streets as we made our way home to Shagari Quarters. The only thing they did before continuing with their businesses was to ask my mother why she had her kids and the kids of other people. I remember Fatima and Nura Mohammed coming with us. They were our neighbours. Same tribe and their mother is friends with my mother so she did not leave them. Idris also followed us because I told mother we shouldn’t leave them back.

We got home and settled in and soon my father drove into the compound. He had heard about what was about to happen in Mahaza Company, a skin company at Challawa Industrial Estate. As soon as he got in, he asked after my elder brother, Michael. The reply was Michael wasn’t home yet. I could sense the tension in the atmosphere and with the way my father paced up and down, I just knew that it was going to be bloody if not bloodier that the Sharia riots and Osama Bin Laden Riots in the year 2000 and 2001 respectively.

To be continued….

#JoeyReminisces

i can also feel the tension.

I hardly pass comments on this platform, but I must confess, this story is quite deep.

foxyflow, just woke from a nightmare relating to ur story n i fear for Nigeria because its going to be b repetition of d past but bloodier... pls continue

this writer is my igala brother. stayed in kano too but dint experience all dis crisis, only heard of it cos we stayed in panshekara barracks.

Silence... The one that breeds death Laughter... Begotten from unshed tears Takes me from one world Throwing me into another One whose power I can't control Just one escape stares me deeply Write every piece of my emotions
Come let's dance together then In this alluring lustful rain Let the water our sin wash away Drowning every bit of us In a basin of pent up pains and anger This may not be the life But the gods have blessed us In their arms would we nestle As they rock us gently Into that deep silence That comes with death
Black clouds hanging up there Tiny glows of electric lamps darting here and there Their warmth draws the insects But far away from our heart it is This is the life we know The one we've been sentenced to Fifty, sixty, seventy and eighty And heaven? Our hearts beat at the thought We don't know and we know
Silence.... The one that comes with death Laughter From pent up anger and frustration
#JoeyWrites


update coming up...

Waiting patiently..

MAY, 2004 (Episode

"Dear God, as we go out in search of our daily bread, may we not become the daily bread of evil people."
Anonymous, 2017

The whole of Shagari Quarters was silent that morning. 13th Street also houses the "Mai Angwa" of the area. The Mai Angwa is like the person in charge, the local chief which all matters is reported to. He used to drive one little Toyota. Our dog, Lizzy was also unusually silent that day. It was that day I came to believe that animals see or perceive the extraordinary. On a very good day, this dog would bark but that day the dog did not. Instead it went to lie down very close to the gate. It's position such that it could spring up on anyone that tries to gain access at anytime from any angle.

"Baba Alad, abu a che ke?"
*Baba Alad, what are we going to do?*

Mother asked my father. He seemed to be in deep thought. We gathered around them. My sister was trembling. I had to scold her, told her to man up and shut up if not she was going to be thrown over the fence. I was joking though. But I was tensed too, not too tensed because the concept of life and death had not really sunk into my brain. The concept of violent death precisely.

"We won't do anything. We would wait here."

Father replied.

"Wait here and allow them come and kill my children for me? God forbid."

Mother returned.

"See, if you can't be patient then go outside. As for me, I am not driving that car anywhere at this moment."

Father said to her. Mother did not wait. She started moving towards the gate. Father followed her calling her. You know that moment some situations make you act irrationally. That was the moment. I followed behind, not because I wanted to but because my leg dragged me. As soon as we got to the gate, Mother pulled it and looked outside. Right there passing in front of our house was the Mai Angwa. Father flagged him down.

"Alhaji, me zamu yi? Ni da yara na muna ciki."
*Alhaji, what should we do? My children and I are inside*

"Kar ku damu. Babu abun da zai faru. Kowai ku zaman ku a ciki."
*Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen. You guys should just stay indoors.*

The Mai Angwa replied and made to drive off. Father turned to my mother and wanted saying something but mother cut him short.

"Ukola amu'Hausa onwu e da du-eti nei le?"
*Is it the words of a Hausa man you want to follow?*

You know the sense of reasoning was deep. Father called out and made the Alhaji to wait. Before he could say something, two young guys came on a Vespa bike.

"Ya Alhaj, ina za ka kuma?"
*Senior brother Alhaji, where are you headed to?*

They asked.

"Ba inda za ni. Kowai zan dan fita ne."
*I'm not going anywhere. I just want to go out a little.*

He replied.

"La ihla a illallahu. Ka ma ka tunani haka. Indai ka bar angwan nan ko, wallahi zasu maka ragarggaza da angwan."
*There is no god but Allah. Don't even habour that thought. If you leave this area, they will scatter everything.*

They replied with dead seriousness in their eyes. My father hearing that knew that things wasn't just funny.

"Alhaji, no go anywhere o."

"Suna hanya zuwa. Ka je ka tare su kafin su iso ta nan."
*They are on their way here. Go and block them before they get to this place.*

With that the young men drove away. Mai Angwa turned and told my father to go inside that he was going to do his best to forestall any attack. That was how they turned. I was standing behind the gate. They walked in and bolted the gate. We all moved towards the main building. Lizzy did not leave her spot. She just laid there. We had not settled down for more than ten minutes when the signature chant came to us strongly. The voices sounded like it belonged to a thousand people. The cries of warriors screaming in Arabic. I will put the translation only.

"There is no god but Allah! God is great!"

Over and over again. You know that moment when the house and the compound becomes unsafe that the only place you could find succour is the rest room? That was exactly what happened. Father pushed us all into the closet while he himself mounted the door, this time not with a machete but a Hercules hammer. He left the door slightly ajar while we braced for the worse. One spectacular thing though, the dog did not bark. If it had, I may not be writing this today. It is generally believed that it is only Christians and people of other tribes that train dogs. So hearing the bark of a dog would have put our house under the radar. I don't know what had shut the mouth of the dog but whatever or whoever had done that did it out of Divine intervention. Lizzy may have passed to the great beyond today but the dog has a huge space in the heart of us all. It was a dog that knew when to bark and when to hold its peace. I hope you are in Animal Paradise Lizzy. Even though you had bitten Moses twice for playing with your bones, you still lived a good life.

The clock kept ticking as the voices got closer while we braced for the worse.

To be continued....

#JoeyReminisces

OMG!!!

Mehn!!!

MAY, 2004 (Episode 9)

"There is neither Victor nor Vanquished in war. At the end people lose important things, the worse being their humanity."
Joey, 2017

The ferocity with which the chants was carried was enough to chase the soul out of every mortal man and God save if you encounter them at that moment. Your death would be slow and painful. There is never a swift and painless death if they're is anything as a painless death. Calculate close to fifty people chasing just one stranger. If that stranger is caught, a barrage of blows rains down on his from all manner of hard objects. From huge sticks to stones to machetes and finally, he is held down and one of them (The Executioner) slits his throat. Tire is rolled over and dumped over the dying person, his body is doused with enough petrol and he is lit straight up.

The misconception of most people outside the North (The crisis prone areas) is that only the Igbos are attacked. That's a little bit on the ignorant side. Everybody, I repeat, everyone is attacked. The moment you are not Hausa and you are not from the land, you are liable to be killed. Those who are mostly unlucky are the fair folks though. You get labeled "Inyamiri" and your death is hastened. Converted Muslims have been roasted, some waited for peacefully to finish saying their prayers and come out of the mosques before they are transposed to the great beyond. Some are asked to recite a portion from the Holy Book. If you do so and the guys holding you captive are lenient enough, they let you go. Others say you are practicing the watered down version and voila, your head leaves your body. Some people are asked to deny their faith. If they agree, they are made to go through the conversion process before they are helped to attain "paradise".

Neighbors have betrayed neighbors and have led the marauders to them. Others, under the pretext of wanting to save you and your family, take you inside and well, the rest is history, if you live to tell the tale. A little narration from one of my Uncles who left Kano for good.

During the year 2000 riots, he wasn't even aware something was happening until his neighbor came to him. The neighbor told his all that was happening and advised his to come and hide in his room. That uncle of mine followed him and was about to get comfortable for the night when from the corner of his eyes, he saw the other person pulling out a long machete he had carefully concealed in his trouser. Now instead of pleading for his life, my uncle jumped on his and a struggle ensued. My uncle overpowered him and sent him into a long sleep with a pestle. He wore the man's garment dotting the room and with the money on him made his way to the park that night. My uncle is still in the South Western part of the country to this day.

Not everyone is evil though as families have been saved by their good natured neighbors. For example, what happened in the year 2001. Alhaji Bako's presence had made those guys pass the house. Some people have been hidden, dressed in native clothing and smuggled to safe locations. I will get to that part in my narration soon.

Families have been burnt inside their houses, some inside their cars while trying to escape the carnage. Others are slaughtered one after the other. For example, they might start with the man of the house right in front of his wife and kids, then the wife follows suit, then the kids. Sometimes they let one of the kids go to carry the gory news everywhere with the scar on his psychological being very deep. There's been an incidence where the man was killed, his two sons quickly followed and finally, the kid which the woman held in her hand. When they realized that the traumatic experience had rendered the woman insane right before them, they allowed her go. It was instant madness and continuous roaming of the streets before her family found her and took her down to her hometown.

Some families are killed and dumped inside the wells outside their places of residence while those who escaped to nearby police stations do so with deep cuts on some parts of their body. In essence, what I am trying to point out is that, religion doesn't become your saving grace during this riots and clashes. No, God saves you. Anything short of you being a core Northerner automatically sentences you to a gruesome death. At the end of it all, nobody is prosecuted. The criminals go scot free with their crimes. Life just return back to normal awaiting the next time there would be an upheaval. The only steps that those who do not travel out of the State do is to move to Sabon Gari, a place largely populated by non-Indigenes. But for how long will this Jerusalem hold? Not praying for evil though but time reveals all.

************************
The chants got closer and soon the sound of properties outside being destroyed took over the atmosphere. We know how dogs react to noises. First, a dog will bark when it hears a crowd discussing excitedly and passing in front of its house as if to tell them to maintain decorum. But that day, with all the noise, all the screams, all the chants, Lizzy made no sound. Not even a whimper. Father clutched to the hammer tighter and prayed. Soon mother took up the prayer and before long, everyone one of us was praying with our parents. You know that moment when at the time of crisis everyone of your family member is in that region? The feeling is dreadful especially if you are not all gathered in the same place. The only people you could account for are those around you. My elder sister and brother, first and second respectively schooled in FCE at that time. My elder sister was doing her Teaching Practice in one area whose name I've forgotten while my bro lived in Rijiyan Zaki, that Jan Bulo side along BUK road. The third child of my father was working in Mahaza company. Imagine the grief on both my parents and know the area in which their prayers would be channeled. Michael wasn't back too. That makes it four children plus my uncle unaccounted for. The prayer increased with the voices outside.

"Jesus! Save us! Father! Don't let us perish! Deliver us! Save my children. Wherever they are, stay with them! Father!"

Looking back now, I understand the anguish. There is a tightening in my stomach and I seem to be reliving that experience. The rate of my heartbeat is a bit irregular at the moment. I will have to pause here for a while.

This story is also being featured on my Facebook wall. I am having second thoughts about continuing there sha. I will leave the suggestion open here if I should continue or not. I await your response.

To be continued....

#JoeyReminisces

I'll like to add u on Facebook, what's ur ID pls

Joey, I would suggest you don't Feature it on your facebook o. With the unrest currently brewing in the country..... These extremists haven't changed. Better to err on the side of caution. My opinion though

Mr joey-foxy-flow, abeg biko pls continue

i'll advise u stop on facebook.dat place's gonna expose ur identity

drewsman:
I'll like to add u on Facebook, what's ur ID pls

That's personal. My WhatsApp number is there to contact me with....

smokeydrinky:
Joey, I would suggest you don't Feature it on your facebook o. With the unrest currently brewing in the country..... These extremists haven't changed. Better to err on the side of caution. My opinion though

Let's see how it goes then...

FoxyFlow:

That's personal. My WhatsApp number is there to contact me with....

aiit bro nice story

I'll advise u continue here..

FoxyFlow:


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....

FoxyFlow i hail thee!

flow1759:

FoxyFlow i hail thee!

Babane! What's the keskey?

FoxyFlow:


Babane! What's the keskey?

Its been a while

flow1759:


Its been a while

Chai...Flow this is how you sneak in.. those days of Man Wey Dey reason and Attai... chai flowey.. your name name don dey listed on Nairaland Hall of fame... How you? a secret follower then...

[quote author=flow1759 post=57674300]

FoxyFlow i hail thee![/quote
Flow my man,where u con go since na