Memories from that afternoon were still vivid like a blot of ink on white cloth, complete with cries and screams from the pain of helpless victims and enthusiastic shouts of Allahu-akbar! by the attackers. Papa had earlier said it was the usual threat technique of dogs barking all day and not being able to bite when the occasion called but Mama argued differently with concern and fear written all over her face. The riot had started and the Sabon-gari settlement where we resided was the first port of call by the rioters numbering in thousands, wielding weapons of assorted types.

I quickly pushed aside the old, empty cartons of red wine at the room corner with sweaty palms and heart pounding like a bass drum before climbing into the cobweb-covered, black plastic water drum to hide. Beads of sweat were trickling down my face like rain-water. I quickly lowered my head into the drum, crumpled myself into a ball and started muttering a prayer under my breath which was interrupted by sounds of struggle and then a gun-shot after few minutes at the direction of the main entrance and everything seemed to stop for some seconds. I could hear the whirring of the ceiling fan blades and then a thud as something very heavy hit the tile covered floor of the sitting room. I shut my eyes in fear and bit my lips so hard I could taste the blood. This was the end I thought to myself as I felt a pair of strong hands tugging at my collar.

‘‘Ejike! Ejike!!’’

I slowly opened my eyes to see Papa staring down at me with a frown on his face.
‘‘Get up from that bed and go bring in the clothes you hung outside, a drizzle is coming’’, Papa scolded.

Hahaha.. Nice one bro. Keep updating o