flow1759:


Its been a while

Yes boss... Iyaf tay.. You made money and forgot us na....

MAY, 2004 (Episode 10)

First wave passed, second wave came and went. The third wave the same thing. We remained in the restroom praying hard. There were no speaking in tongues then but there sure was a lot of sweating. Even after we heard the relative silence outside, we still stayed indoors. It was when my younger brother, Moses started saying something about using the loo that it dawned on us. Before we could react, Moses had pulled his trouser and the sound of his watery faeces made us scamper out of the restroom. It was a bit funny. Yes, we actually laughed in that tensed situation. As we were thinking and talking about the sounds we heard, there was a knock on our gate. Lizzy did not bark. Instead Lizzy started making those sounds that dogs make when they are excited to see a member of the family.

Father stood for a while trying to decide if he should move to the gate or not. But mother as usual had started moving towards the gate. Father had to run and overtook her. He opened the gate and lo and behold, Michael stood there at the gate with a friend of his, Bash with whom they attended the same school. Mother screamed and opened her arms for Michael who entered into it. The way Nigerian people show love sha. If no be nowadays, how many parents dey tell their children say them love them? Highest they do is to make sure that they provide everything for the kid, making sure he lacked nothing. I remember once or twice when we do something wrong, like eating in a neighbour’s house, what our parents would ask is:

“What is it that you want that I cannot provide? All you needed do was to have asked.”

This they say over and over again before the whip starts falling on your skin. Hard love I tell you.

Michael wasn’t smiling when he came in. The only name on his lips was “Zakka”, the short form of Zachariah. When asked why he kept calling the name, he narrated thus:

“After the school was dismissed and seeing that the house was a bit far, we decided to go to Alad’s place (now my elder sister lived behind the former PDP building at Hausawa, along Zoo Road. This place is known for its notoriety in the number of Indian hemp smokers that camped there and the fact that those people displayed weapons of all sorts and are known to harass people who decided to ply the road). When we got there, we knocked and knocked and knocked. I, Bash, Zakka and Husseini. Nobody answered us. Suddenly, from nowhere, a young boy was passing. He told us, pointing to the main road, that it was bad and risky following there. That we should follow through hockey field. (Hockey field is a large expanse of land that was once dedicated to the playing of hockey. It was designed like a mini stadium. It had long been converted to a football field though). We believed him and took that road. Lo and behold, as we were at the middle of the field, Husseini turned back and screamed:

“Michael run, make una run for una life.”

The race started. To God be the glory, the gate of the field had spoilt so was lying down carelessly somewhere. As I started running, I turned back and saw the same boy that had advised us to follow the field leading a hoard of well armed men towards us. Now, some other guys who had sat down at a covering came at us. They tried to tackle us by sliding while we jumped over them evading them like some supernatural force was actually lifting us. I had never felt so light all my life. We were so close to the gate when one guy came out from nowhere with a large rock. I was so close to him and I knew anything that made him release the rock, I would go down flat so I screamed at the top of my voice.

“Dan Allah, kar ka jife ni. Ba abun da na muku fa.”
*I beg you in the name of God, don’t stone me. I did nothing wrong to you people.”

I don’t know what touched him but he actually lowered the huge stone down and went back to where he was smoking his hemp. That was how I escaped. Bash was following closely behind. When we stopped running, we had crossed the Hausawa road into Tudun Maliki. Right there, I saw Bala. He waved at us. He was the one who led us down till we got to the field where we parted. Husseini and Zakka were caught. Husseini is a muslim so he might escape but Zacharia? I pray God saves him.”

It is a testimony but nobody celebrated. There are some testimonies that if you celebrate it, it will look like you are celebrating the ill luck that had befallen someone else. For example, when one escapes a car accident that claimed over a hundred lives, should he go and give a testimony in church considering the fact that some of the people who had died were also members of that church? Thus we celebrated not. We only prayed for the safe return of Zakka and Husseini. Now both Godwin and Alad were far from the house. Henry who worked in Mahaza company would at the end be transported to the barracks by the company’s management. Phillip would also find his way to Bompai barracks too. It was just us that was left and needed finding our way to the barracks but through which road? Was it the road that was blocked and killings was going on with reckless abandon?

Mother entered into the kitchen and made a meal while we waited. When the food was ready, we ate half heartedly. A banging on our gate made us pause eating as father went to the gate to check who it was. It was Godwin, a townsperson. He did not waste time stating his mission. He had come to take us to safety to the house of the Alhaji he worked for. He was a contractor and an architect who designed houses and even helped build them with the help of labourers he hired. He told us to get ready as he would return in the night to take us there so as not to arouse suspicion. The Alhaji (he is late now, died some days after the riots ended), according to him is a good man who would give us shelter pending when we would move over to the barracks.

That night, around 7:00pm, he came to the house true to his words and in no time, we found ourselves in Sabon Madawari. A big white building. It was supposed to house us for the night before he would move us to his own house the next day in that same area. That night was one of the longest I had ever spent awake. The night was long and we slept outside in the sprawling compound. Mosquitoes fed off us and the stench from a gutter that ran nearby was something to contend with. The Alhaji too once in a while lets off a round of gunshot from his double barrel gun. That was to scare away those who had the intentions of burning houses while it was night. None of us got a wink of sleep all through the night till the early morning and by then the worms in our stomachs had already begun growling. Brother Godwin came and picked us. We thought we were going far but it was not to be. His house was just the next street. We got there and there was a huge breakfast waiting for us. Trust us the kids, we delved into the huge bread, the plenty balls of akara and the huge plait of akamu right there and in a twinkle of an eye, we had cleared it.

My elder sister, Alad came over with her husband that evening. She had a tale, a miraculous one. How she and her friends plus her second son who was a couple of months old had escaped the marauders. One thing hung in the air though, we needed to go to Bompai police barracks where it was safer and it was possible to reunite with the rest of the family.

To be continued…

#JoeyReminisces

Flow, you're the Moderator's pick of the day. It means your work will be made sticky for the day.. Congrats bro

Divepen1:
Flow, you're the Moderator's pick of the day. It means your work will be made sticky for the day.. Congrats bro

Thank you so much o....

Update coming up...

Sorrry guys for the delays, working on "me" final project so you understand. I just find time to make an update only. There are days I do that in the library, other days, late at night at home.

Heading to the finale sha.....

Still I Flow... Flow19759

MAY, 2004 (Episode 11)

“You know what death is? It is the end of everything. Why then do we strive to live since we would still end up dead?”
Joey, 2017

We survived in that house for days. Yes, we actually did. There was another family there whom we stayed with. They were Yoruba so it was kind of fun learning Yoruba little by little. I remember playing with the youngest one whose name is Tobi. We always referred to him as “Tupepe”. It was funny because the young lad did not know how to leave a trouser on his waist for a long time. Whenever he misplaces his trouser, he walks up to his mother and in his tiny voice asks her:

“Shokoto mi”

When it was time to leave the house, it was a bit touching since we would be going to a new life for a couple of days amongst people whom we hardly knew. We were meant to live together with them until peace is finally restored in Kano before moving back to our various houses. As at then, we had this faint memory of Bompai barracks. How spacious it was and how we could go to a river and swim. It was sure going to be fun and yeah, we did not think of it as an escape, we thought about it as a vacation. An escape from the norm.

That morning, my dad came to the house. Before then, he was the only one sleeping in our house at Shagari Quarters. From there he would head to his place of work. He had already made contact with Henry and Godwin but Philip was nowhere to be found. He did not let my mother know though because each time she asked him, he would say to her:

“Anytime wey I go barrack gate where all those companies dey park their bus go ask, them go tell me say their motor just leave barracks and you know say I no go fit wait till evening because of how road dey be for night.”

Mother swallowed this. Her other younger brothers came around. Friday and Williams is their names. They came in the company of some relations. Together they stayed with my mother then went out with my father to the company which Philip worked to ask after him. When they returned that evening, they came with a different story which mother believed. I can’t remember what they told her but I know it was a bleak message with a positive end. It was the next day after they delivered that message that we went to the barracks.

Bompai Police Barracks used to be the most secure location after Sabon Gari in Kano State back then (I will give reasons for this view in subsequent updates). Everybody ran to the barracks to escape any form of unrest. It is in that place that you would meet people who had really seen life for what it really was. Those who escaped being killed, those whose family were killed, those whose houses were burnt and those who had nothing to live for anymore. Some aid workers under the Kano State government came in daily in the morning and in the evening with relief materials. These materials are thrown at people who scampered after it, some even fighting just to get what to eat. From cabin biscuits to spaghetti, rice and bread. Sachet water too served as a course in the menu. It is crazy how a government that had practically folded its arm when the whole mayhem was taking place would still be the same government to come with relief items.

Yes, I know I did not include this in previous updates. The May, 2004 riots came at the same time that Malam Ibrahim Shekarau should be marking his one year in office. Rumours had it that he was present at the prayers in the Dangi Central Mosque that morning. He did nothing to stop the cold hearted marauders when they were screaming for their pound of flesh. Pound of flesh from innocent people of various ethnic extractions all over the country. Tell me, there was a riot in Jos, some of us did not know the origin of the riots, yet you come all out to kill us. Is that justified? Was it the Igbos, the Yorubas, the Igalas, the Idomas, the TIVs, the Itsekiris, the Ijaws and the rest of the non-indigenous people of Kano that killed your people in Jos? A question begging to be answered.

Every riot in Kano had been a reprisal of some riots or some events in some other part of the country or the world. The Sharia Riots of year 2000 started in Kaduna then spilled to Kano. Osama bin Laden riots of 2001 started where? In the Middle East! Nobody waits for the police to conclude investigations, no, instead they arm themselves and go into the road seeking whom to kill. Neighbours who bore grudges against you tell you to your face that they await the day of reckoning, that you wouldn’t escape their dagger. The day of reckoning is…. You know the rest!

“Yanka rago ne zamu muku wallahi”
*We will slaughter you all like rams*

The above statement has been used on almost everyone who grew up in Kano and the core Northern States. Lol, not funny though but during the Post Election Violence of 2011, I was in the Polytechnic then. A coursemate of mine, we took Elect/Elect courses together actually pulled out a dagger and ran it over his neck while pointing at me. It was the intervention of the school authority who called in security operatives into the school that prevented the bloodbath that would have taken place. The students of Hausa Extraction stayed close to the boys’ hostel while those of us who weren’t from the core north, whether Muslims or Christians stayed close to the field. The weapons that began showing their faces that day was crazy. How they had been smuggled into the hostel under the watchful eyes of the security unit still remains a mystery. (I don’t wanna call the name of the school though.)

You see that coursemate of mine? Till today I never follow the bastard talk I swear. I was shocked. He was my friend before Buhari lost the 2011 elections oh. Surely, no permanent friends, just permanent interests.

On that day of the riots and subsequent days that followed, there was no presence of security operatives in the inner parts of the State. The marauders had a field day killing people to their satisfaction. What happened is that bodies which were deposited (the few that got lucky to be deposited) and weren’t claimed was given mass burials. At Madille, the little village or community after Shagari Quarters, had every non-indigenous person wiped out. Sabuwar Gandu, after Tukuntawa was also razed. Sharada, both Phase 1, Phase 2 and Phase 3, saw its own share of the blood spill. Sheka, Salehri and the innards faced the same treatment. No government intervention, yet the same government brought relief items to the barracks. The taste of it all was too bitter to swallow.

We had lived in the barracks for close to a week when the news came. I believe the news had been on ground since but the avenue to break it to mother had not been available. That day, I saw plenty relations that I had not seen before. Even those who weren’t staying in the barracks were present that evening. They all had this sober looks on their faces as they discussed amongst themselves in excited voices to mask the pain. They tried as hard as they could not to betray their emotions.

Around 8:00pm or thereabout, I was with my friends, the new ones I had made in the barracks when a loud scream pierced the air. I spun around to see my mother rolling in the dusts. My elder sister and the one I followed directly were with her. They were all crying. I did not know if I should move close to them to console them. I was scared stiff of the information I would be given. As soon as Moses and Ernest went to them, they were told the news and the two of them joined my mother in weeping. The words that kept coming out of the mouth of my mother was:

“Ele! Ele! Ele le le le ooo! Ogu wu mi ja me! Ogu wu mi ja me!! Ifuuuuu…. Ifuuuuu! Abu na kukola yi le ke?!”
*Ahhhhh… Ahhhh… Ah…..!!! War has finally caught up with me! War has finally caught up with me! Ifuuuuu…. Ifuuuu….! How will I talk this one now?!*

“Ifu” is the tribal name of my Uncle Philip. Something terrible had happened to him. My feet felt heavy as I dragged myself towards where my mum was weeping. My throat was dried and I felt a pain I hadn’t felt before sear through my heart. I was hoping, yes, hoping he was lying alive even if he was critically wounded somewhere. I wasn’t prepared for any other news. As soon as my mother caught sight of me, she grabbed me by my arm, pulled me towards herself and hugged me. These words came out of her mouth…

“Attai, your uncle no dey again. Ah! Attai! These Hausa people don succeed kill your uncle. Attai! Wetin I go tell my old mother for village say happen to her pikin wey come stay with me? Attai! Wetin I wan tell the whole village people say happen to my brother wey come stay for my place?”

To this very moment, I have no answer to any of the questions she had asked me. I knew that each and every question that came out of her mouth carried a huge implication but what could I do? I was young and consoling my mother was something I hadn’t learned. Instead, each and every word sunk deeply into my mind. A dark message I was going to remember for the rest of my life. My eyes did not betray me. No, not even a single drop of tear found its way out of my ducts. Instead I dragged myself gently from my mother’s grip and went to a wall where I leaned. Where the strength to bear the blow which the death of Philip had dealt on me came from, I know not. I just know something died within me. Death, violent one, lost its essence to me. Every death became normal to me. If everybody dropped dead around me at that moment, I wouldn’t have found it a thing of surprise. No, I embraced death and the fact that those it took with it I would see no more till I finally close my own eyes in death.

Mother was inconsolable so also were my sisters. The only people who did not shed tears were my father and the male relatives around. They all bit on their fingers and shook their heads. Some had red, bloodshot eyes. For the first time, riots took a member of the family and its reality was too hard to swallow.

That night, as I slept on the rug covered floor on which most of the kids slept, Onyetu held unto me. Onyetu is the daughter of a family friend and also one with who we are from the same village. She kept whispering into my ears that it would be alright but would it be? Everything changed from that day. Nothing ever remained the same. Even in the family. I can count the number of times Philip’s name has been mentioned. Nobody spoke about how he died, at least not to my mother to this day.

My mind was a riot of what I and Philip had done together. The places we had visited, the works I had helped him do in Brother Godwin’s building site and how he had told me how he would go back to the village and return with a wife. He already had a house and had furnished it already. He had taken me there and had told me not to tell anyone. It was our secret. Now the house would never be lived in and he would never have a wife, not anymore.

Death truly is a grim reaper. It goes for unripe fruits and let the ripe ones with evil traits stay hangin on the tree for long.

To be continued…

#JoeyReminisces

I was nominated for an award on PALEC platform. It is a prestigious award for students who had displayed leadership qualities.

Please click on this link and vote for me, Joseph Success in the category I was listed and every student from FULafia...

God bless...

Here is the link...


prestigeanchor.com/2017/06/21/palec-awards-2-0-e-voting/

this is so touching....
omaye mi ukwu me ne du no

foxyflow you have a great story up there. I read the last 2 updates before sleeping last night and my eyes were as wide as saucers all through the read.


but I will have to unfollow the story because I had terrible nightmares. I don't have the heart to continue

khalifahsparkles:
foxyflow you have a great story up there. I read the last 2 updates before sleeping last night and my eyes were as wide as saucers all through the read.


but I will have to unfollow the story because I had terrible nightmares. I don't have the heart to continue

Eya... Toh, the story is almost done. The above update is the last. The next one might round it up or the one after the next. Thanks for reading, I hope you understand my message....

FoxyFlow:


Eya... Toh, the story is almost done. The above update is the last. The next one might round it up or the one after the next. Thanks for reading, I hope you understand my message....

yeah. totally.

Good morning all...

Grande Finalle drops today...

FoxyFlow:
Good morning all...
Grande Finalle drops today...

Xpetin

FoxyFlow:
I was nominated for an award on PALEC platform. It is a prestigious award for students who had displayed leadership qualities.

Please click on this link and vote for me, Joseph Success in the category I was listed and every student from FULafia...

God bless...

Here is the link...


http://prestigeanchor.com/2017/06/21/palec-awards-2-0-e-voting/

Wow! U Re A Student Of Fulafia!

I Picked Dem Diz Year

Pls
How Much Is Their Starting Fee(In Case I'm Admitted)

MAY, 2004 (The End)

"Oh that man would praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works to the children of men. He has broken the gate of brass and that of iron he set asunder."
The Bible.

War is something that people long after. They want a taste of it. It is in human nature to engage in war no matter how peaceful the period is. It is as if our DNA has it embedded inside of it. Try as much as we can, we cannot resist the urge to spill blood and if we do, there is this satisfaction we feel in our spirits. It is like the resultant effect of a drug and when it wears off, we go in search of more blood to spill.

That is the nature of man. I don't know if this puts a balance to the ecosystem because I believe man's insatiable appetite for bloodshed will only bring about a close in the chapter called humanity. Someone once said, man is the disease. He is the parasite. Man is like the little moss on a bread. If nothing is done to checkmate man, then the world will come to an end. It isn't the war, no, it is the desire to create weapons that are more devastating than the previous ones created. Man plays with nuclear weapons and the only show of strength a country have over another is their nuclear weapon.

Uncle Philip died and a whole lot of people in the riot. Mother went to the village and returned and life went back to normal. The State government seeing the tongue lashing it received from the non-Indigenes decided to be more vigilant. It was able to sustain peace all through its tenure. The cravings for blood was strong though.

April 18th, 2011 came with the world following the event of the post election violence. I wasn't in Kano then and Kazaure where I schooled was peaceful. The people protested but no blood was shed. A year we won't forget in a hurry.

The end....

*************************

JANUARY 20TH, 2012

The evening was bright unlike the hazy cold morning that had preceded it. Kawo bus stop was also lively as people went about their normal routine with a peace of mind. The country just came out of a strike that did not see the price of PMS returned to its original price of 65 naira. The protest all over the country and the strike drained the pockets of a lot of people. Many wanted the strikes to contine until the government shift ground but manier wanted it to end. Of what purpose was the strike since it left a lot of people stranded in their hometowns and those that managed to return had to do with the little food they had at home. Hunger was already staring at people in the face. The prices of foodstuffs was beginning to climb high.

Alan as usual was talking about girls while Emmanuel collaborated his story. Abdulrasheed as usual only laughed while Dada stood there hopping from one leg to the other. Humble me held an acoustic guitar and was trying to master the do re mi fa so la ti doh notation. I was very interested in the matter being discussed but the fact that I was playing the guitar made me keep quiet.

It was like someone blew a whistle. Because all of a sudden the whole street became filled with so many people. Some rode on bikes, others in cars yet others ran on their foot looking all dusty and sweaty. It was the first time that we had so many vehicular movement at Kawo bus stop for a while now. I looked at Dada, he looked back at me. None of us knew what was happening.

"Kai, yane? Dan Allah, mai ke faru?"

Dada asked one guy that held lots of memory cards in his hand. His answer shook us.

" 'yan Boko Haram ne. Suna harbin mutane a Sardauna Crescent."
*It is Boko Haram. They are killing people in Sardauna Crescent.*

The answer was unsettling. Even though we knew Kano was going to come under attack, we did not know it would be so soon. At that same instance my phone rang. The caller was my elder sister, Alad.

"Hello Attai, them dey shoot gun for Naibawa. No go outside. I hear say na Boko Haram."

It was a crazy revelation. Sardauna Crescent and Ungwa Uku was getting attacked at the same time. Yes, all around 4pm. After I dropped the call with a heart that was already feeling the tinge of adrenaline, NEPA brought light. Dada and I forgot about everybody and everyone and ran home to the television. No news channel was reporting it. It was the following morning or that night that we learnt that Oche of Channels TV lost his life to that carnage.

When we saw that no channel was reporting the news, we opted for Channel O. Five minutes into the musical program, there was lights out. Before we could react to it, there was a loud explosion with the house suffering a massive shakeover. A bomb had gone off very close to the house. As we ran outside, the clatter of submachine guns tore through the air. Bloodbath, a bloodier one began in Kano.

And no, I did not stay to witness it.

The End....
#JoeyReminisces

Y'all can start telling your stories....
Good morning....

FTC.nice story.xpetin maw frm u

Divepen1:
Flow, you're the Moderator's pick of the day. It means your work will be made sticky for the day.. Congrats bro

Bonsoir Modey, Sup na? I don finish story o. Help us push am go front page. Thanks...

Omg respect I have for u just tripled.
So u mean u have gone through things like dis.
Just see news abt the riot and critisice bbut u just opened my eyes clearly

Flow1759 where u go since na
Still I follow

Lolz........ Hah.ahahahaha... Lalasticlala..... Do you expect me to read all diz..... Oga oooo...

Wow. Captivating you, Joey. You write frabjously and narrate excellently well. Beautiful.

#Following.

Kai Op u witnessed tinz
dis just changed my mindset about biafra
some people don't know wat war looks like

FoxyFlow:
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

I like your story but it is more of a fantasy than true life story.

Stop exaggerating please.

HMMMMM





WELL, GUYS HAVE YOU WATCHED MY COMEDY VIDEOS HERE ON YOUTUBE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYPFFfIGDxE&index=1&list=PLY7Fos48tYceFx6LDXQngQto1ChruUlvs
ITS A LOT OF HARDWORK PUTTING THAT TOGETHER,
WATCH SHARE AND SUBSCRIBE PLEASE, NA BEG I DEY BEG.
IF YOU NO ENJOY THE SKIT, I GO RETURN YOUR MB. SURE!
DONT FORGET TO TALK TO ME ON WHATSAPP IF YOU NOTICE ANYTHING
GOD BLESS YOU ALL AS YOU SHOW LOVE

I'm sorry for your loss, but I hope in all these, you and your family have learnt a lesson!!! So if you're still staying in the north even till date, no matter how safe, soothing and promising the government assures you.... When the time comes, you see that you are ON YOUR OWN ( OYO).

[quote author=Bankz007 post=57200997]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.

My Broda, Tudun Maliki ws mur or less my 2nd home. I had numerous friends dia. Even tho, we stay in zaria rd. Zoo road ws home. God bless dz OP 4 dz 1daful write up.
Note: I stil live in kano tho.

You know a real life story immediately u read the first paragraph. I don't rush to comment on a thread, but nice work bro.
During my posting period in 2008, i had a very strong premonition that i'll be posted to one of the northern states for the mandatory youth service and that i'll be killed in one of such religious upheavals.
You see, am very light skinned, athletic built, respect people's space but don't take harassment without defending myself the best i can, so i knew i will be conspicuous in the north.
This made me do all within my power to influence my posting to Cross River and today am alive & hale.
THIS STORY IS LIKE A PIN IN A HAYSTACK OF ALL THE ATROCITIES COMMITTED TO NON-HAUSAS LIVING IN THE NORTH, IMAGINE IF EVERYONE OF THEM VOICES ALL THEY WENT THROUGH IN THE NORTH. Very wicked & demented folks, i tell you

farouk0403:

I like your story but it is more of a fantasy than true life story.

Stop exaggerating please.

If you see my exaggerated stories, you will know this one ain't. Everything I wrote up there happened and a lot of people who have stayed in Kano or still stay there can collaborate the story. It is because of your likes I used real names and real locations. You can confirm it anytime.

I will make this quote:

"You won't really know what war is unless you witness one or it takes someone close to you."

Shalom...

FoxyFlow:


If you see my exaggerated stories, you will know this one ain't. Everything I wrote up there happened and a lot of people who have stayed in Kano or still stay there can collaborate the story. It is because of your likes I used real names and real locations. You can confirm it anytime.

I will make this quote:

"You won't really know what war is unless you witness one or it takes someone close to you."

Shalom...

Yes, i know crisis had happened in kano for the past decade, even thou i was not in kano as of then but my relatives were there.

The way you narrated that "one hajiya did not allowed you and your mom to seek refuge in her house", i think that's a bit of exaggeration.

Anyways i am not trying to condemn your story but don't you think it will bring more crisis, we are already in a middle of controversies now.

I relate to your story as i have had my own fair share of the traumatic experience.
My childhood friend (your namesake) Attai and his family left Kano after the 2001 riot. Last time we met was at Bompai barracks where we all sought refuge.