Our land is red


And we can no longer keep silent






A fictional piece based on the tragic happenings in Northern Nigeria.

All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording
or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and the author.

This digital edition published by Harmony Publishing in 2018
Plot 1 Emmanuel Anabor Street, off Mopo road, Akakaiye, United Estate, Sangotedo,
Lekki-Epe Expressway,Lagos,Nigeria
Tel: +2347032212481
Email: publish@harmonypublishing.com.ng
Copyright © Chineye Ochem

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-0-46375-293-7

DEDICATION

To Leah Sharibu, the Dapchi girls, the Chibok girls, their family members and loved ones.
To John Chibok, whose father was brutally murdered by the terrorists, and whose cousins were among the kidnapped Chibok girls.
To the victims of the bombings and herdsmen attacks.
To their family members and loved ones who will carry this loss with them through their life time,
To Oby Ezekwesili, Aisha Yesufu, and the members of the Bring Back Our Girls Movement, who remind us daily that our girls are still out there.
To Nigerians, in this time of continuous loss and tragedy.
To a New Nigeria, where there is peace and security, where the lives of the citizens matter, and our girls are not snatched from their families in their prime and where the lives of animals do not trump that of its citizens.

our land is red
filled with the blood of its citizens
how long will we continue in silence,
waking daily to the massacre of our families?
two hundred today, five hundred tomorrow
children, parents and even the unborn
how long will we continue to pray
feeling helpless, hopeless and depressed?
our grasses and farmlands, formerly green
are now watered with the blood of their owners
our land is red
and we can no longer keep silent

CHAPTER 1

Gloria dropped the book she had been reading all day, as she yawned and stretched herself out on the bed. She had been lost in the pages of a novel, a world totally different from her reality, one she could not imagine, not even in her dreams. A perfect world. It had been impossible to drop the book since she picked it up in the morning. The only pauses had been to eat, drink some water and use the rest room. Lying on her bed, getting lost in an interesting novel is always the highlight of her holidays. As an only child, she has learnt to overcome loneliness and find company in the amazing worlds of different writers’ imaginations.
Her parents are a little strict, especially when it comes to hanging out with fellow villagers. They have always told her how they believe that she is destined for much more and that associating with those ‘wayward girls and miscreant boys’ in the village would only derail her from her very bright future.
Her mother always says:
“Gloria, don’t you know your future is very bright? You are a very intelligent girl and you are meant for much more than this village. Don’t associate with these wayward, good-for-nothing girls around, oh! All they think about is sex and money. And all these stupid boys really have nothing to offer. Most of them are thieves, robbing people on the streets at night, all so they can flash little cash and get the attention of innocent girls like you. My dear, they just get the girls pregnant and abandon them. You must not fall into their trap. You will be successful and leave this village, and eventually come and take us to big cities like Kano, Abuja and even Lagos.”
Her parents really believe in her. Sometimes it scares her that she might fail them and crush all their dreams.
Her mother, Esther Yaya, is a trader. She has a small stall in the village market where she sells most of the produce from her husband’s farm. Very hardworking and industrious, she wakes up as early as 4am every day, including Saturdays and Sundays, public holidays and even on Christmas day. When she was much younger, she always thought that once she became a woman like her mother, she would no longer sleep so much. She thought sleeping was one of the things she would outgrow, because women like her mother were always awake and about. When she would be dozing off at nights, her mother would still be up and about the house and it was still her mother that always woke her up in the mornings. . .
“Gloriaaaaa!” Her mum’s voice bellowed from the kitchen, totally cutting her off her day-dreaming.
“Yes, mummy?” She responded, lazily shifting on her bed.
“Come and take your food, or are you planning not to eat dinner this night?” Her mother asked.
“I’m coming, mummy” She replied, reluctantly getting off her bed to go pick up her dinner in the kitchen. Gloria loved to eat in her room, on her bed, a bad habit her mother indulged sometimes when her father was not home.
“Is Daddy back yet?” She asked her mother, trying to decide where to go with her plate of rice.
Her mother looked at her with the corner of her eyes, without moving her face in her direction, barely glancing at her.
“Not yet. If you want to eat in your room, you had better do it fast before your father returns. I don’t have power for wahala this evening, abeg”.
Gloria smiled. It amused her the way her mother always saw right through her. It’s probably one of the reasons they were so close. She could hardly keep anything from Mama Gloria, as she is popularly called in the village.
“Your father has gone for the village farmers meeting again. I wonder what they are always talking about. Do they really have to meet for hours every week? It’s almost as if they spend as much time talking as they spend on their farms working. Mtcheeeeeeeeew.”
Gloria smiled. Her mother hated it when her father went for these meetings. Gloria wondered if it was because her father usually returned late from these meetings, or because on those days, he would eat very little and keep to himself for the rest of the night.
Jonathan Yaya was by nature a very lively man. His sense of humor was in a class of its own. Whenever he was home, he usually joked around with his ‘girls’ – as he fondly referred to his wife and daughter.
He would tell them stories about his childhood, his trips to some of the big cities like Lagos and Port Harcourt. He would talk about how crowded it was in Lagos, how the commuters were always in a hurry, how they had to chase the yellow public buses, which he said they called danfo, just to get from one part of Lagos to another.
Her father told them of one occasion in a place called Oshodi. He struggled to board one of the danfos with many other Lagosians – as he calls them in his funny judgmental way, wrinkling his face slightly in that way that usually makes her laugh. Immediately after boarding the bus, he checked his pocket and his phone and wallet had disappeared. He had had to trek the rest of the way home. That was the day, according to her father, he became a Lagosian.
“If your pocket hasn’t been picked on the streets of Lagos, you are not yet a true Lagosian” her father had said, concluding the story.
She had laughed so hard that evening, and gone to bed thinking about pick-pocketing on Lagos streets. That night, she dreamt about struggling to board a bus and a guy dipping his hand into her pocket and bringing it out immediately with a shriek, because the sharp razor blade in her pocket had cut deeply into his fingers.

CHAPTER 2

Jonathan Yaya , Gloria’s father, likes to be called ‘John’. Whenever he meets anyone, immediately after introducing himself, he says, “Please, call me John.”
When asked why he preferred to be called John, in his usual playful way, he goes:
“I don’t know about my parents oh, but the name Jonathan sha, it just seems soooo. . .” and then he takes on that faraway lost look that gets everyone around roaring with laughter. He is someone you would call the life of the party.
Though a very jovial and playful man, John is very hardworking. He does not joke with his work on the farm and his responsibilities to his family. The farm, a hectare of land passed down through generations of the Yaya family and which he has inherited from his father, is the family’s primary source of livelihood.
He has been working on this farm for as long as he could remember. As the only son, with four sisters, he used to work on the farm with his father – as the men of the house; while his sisters stayed in the kitchen with their mother. His father would always say, “Jonathan, leave the kitchen for the women. Let us, the men of the house, go do the hard labour. After all, we are the ones with all the muscles; they are just the weaker vessels.”
His younger sister, Martha, always got angry at these remarks. Right from her childhood, she had always been interested in masculinity. She loved to dress up in his jeans, shorts and shoes. She would sometimes put on his face caps. When he would try to take it from her, she would run around the compound with him hot on her heels.
She had always hated being in the kitchen. She hated having to stay back in the house whenever John and their father were off to the farm. She would try to sneak after them, and if caught and forced to stay back home, she would cry and cry until sometimes her father would finally indulge her, taking her to the farm along with them. John really loved Martha though. Of all his sisters, she was his favorite. Being the only boy in the house, she sometimes made him feel like he had a brother.
Most of the produce from the farm was usually sold in the market both in large quantities and retail quantities. The large quantities were often sold to traders from the big cities that would come to the villages to buy these crops at the lowest possible prices and then sell them in the cities at prices as high as they could go.
The traders are the ones that really make all the money from the farm produce, while the farmers that do all the work are usually ripped off. It’s not like the farmers have lots of choices though, as they have to sell the crops quickly before they get spoilt and then, months of farming and harvesting would have amounted to nothing.
Notwithstanding, the farmers still try to get their crops' worth from the farmers, or at least, they do not make it that easy to be exploited.
“Ha ha John, come on! These tubers of yam are too expensive at N100 per tuber. How much do you think I will sell it when I get to the city? Don’t you know that before we arrive Lagos, some of the tubers would have gotten spoilt?” The traders would say, trying to buy the yams at ridiculously cheap prices.
Or, they would use their famous lines, “See John, don’t you know that people rarely eat garri again? Now, most Lagosians are only interested in taking wheat and semovita. You should be lucky we are even coming to buy these your cassava sef. What is the essence of being a farmer if you cannot sell your crops ehn, John?”
He hated haggling with these traders, especially the ones from Lagos. They were the most stingy and greedy. They acted as though anyone not living in Lagos was a fool who would just believe any nonsense you tell them.
“Don’t mind these stupid Lagosians. Their love for money has overtaken their common sense and human compassion. They think say all of us na mumu, say we no go school, all because we decided not to be living that their stupid cat and mouse life in Lagos abi?” His friend, Sanni responded one day as John was complaining to him about his just concluded haggling session with one of his most deceptive Lagos traders.
“Abi oh, and they take our crops to Lagos and sell everything at very exhorbitant prices. They make all the money, while we do all the work. Mtcheeeew.” John replied, hissing.
Sanni sighed. “My brother, no be small thing oh. This farmer’s life sef no easy at all. If I come this life again ehn, I no go even near this village at all. In fact, na America them go born me.”
John laughed. Sanni’s love for America was rivalled only by his hatred for Nigeria. Who could blame him though? He really had not had it easy in his 45 years on earth.
“You and this your America sef, na heaven? Jonathan said, teasing him.
“Gaskiya, my brother, America na heaven on earth oh.” Sanni replied, ready to go off into his daydreams of the perfect world somewhere out there, overseas. John and Sanni had been friends for a very long time. They lived several houses away from each other. Their fathers had been close friends, and their farms were just separated by stick-walls. Sanni was like the brother he never had

CHAPTER 3

“You girls have just a couple of months to your SSCE exams. The extra lessons will commence today, after school closes. To that end, everyone in this class is expected to wait behind after regular school hours. In addition to that, you all have to start preparing intensely for your exams. I expect everyone here to clear their papers in flying colours. My students do not write exams twice oh.”
It was the first day of resumption of the new term, the final term for Gloria and her classmates before the commencement of their WAEC exams. The Principal had come to address them in their class and had concluded his speech with the reminder that his students do not write exams twice.
That statement though, sounds more like a warning than a reminder. To Gloria, it sounded like the principal was giving them some kind of ultimatum, like he was saying, if you fail your exams and have to rewrite them, I would disown you as though you did not pass through my school. Perhaps, it was the seriousness on his face or the hardness in his voice when he made this statement towards the end of his speech that made it leave such an impression on her mind.
This statement, however, was not anywhere as scary to Gloria, as the thought of failing her parents.
“Gloria, you have to be serious and make your papers once and for all. You know we are not getting any younger. You cannot waste a whole year of your life in this village waiting to write another SSCE oh.” Her mother had said to her this morning before she left the house. Talk about pressure!
She understands though. Her parents are really not getting any younger. They had been married for about 10 years before they gave birth to her.
They told her how they had gone to see lots of doctors but were told that there was nothing wrong with them, and that they were in perfect health, and could conceive at any time. Years came and went by and still no conception. Once, her mum had been pregnant but had suffered a miscarriage few months into the pregnancy.
Her parents had been patient, praying regularly, and seeking God’s face. After all, they believed that children came from God. Unlike most men she knew around, her dad had remained faithful to her mum, loving her, and remaining by her side through it all.
His family members on the other hand, not so much. They had started to mistreat and shun her mother in family gatherings, and even in public. They called her all sort of names, referring to her as a witch who was busy eating all her unborn children and had bewitched her husband – their son - trapping him in a childless marriage.
On some occasions, his sisters and mother had tried bringing young ladies to her father’s house, trying to convince him to “at least get a child from a fruitful woman”.
“This your dry expired witch wey you carry put for house, wey no fit give you common pikin, not even one!” his mother would say.
“Mama please, stop insulting my wife. She is not a witch, and it is not her fault. Children come from God and He will give us one when the time is right.”
“Shut up! She don even put charm for your body, common sense you no get again. See fine fresh girl wey I carry come for you, she go give you better strong boys wey go dey help you for this your farm.” Mama would retort, trying to appeal to his sense of self-interest.
“Mama please stop. I did not ask for your help and intervention. I don’t need any help on the farm, thank you. You can take your fresh wife and marry her to your husband if you like her so much. I am okay here with my wife.” Her dad would reply, always defending his wife’s honour.
He stood with her until finally, after nearly 15 years, they had Gloria, their miracle child.
“My dear, the day you were born was the happiest day of my life. You are a living proof that God answers prayers.” Her mother had said to her one day.
Gloria had smiled, and jokingly responded: “Yeah, I am really glad I could help.”
She wished her parents could have more children though. Then, they would not have to pin all their hopes and dreams on her, and she would not be under so much pressure not to disappoint them.

CHAPTER 4

“Gloria, how far with preparations for the forthcoming exams?” Mercy asked
“Fine oh. I just finished reading one of the English books. I am working on past questions now.” She replied.
Mercy is her best friend. They have been close friends since J.S.S. 1 when they were seat mates and had discovered that they had similar interests – novels.
They had started exchanging novels and formed the habit of discussing them after reading. They always claimed they were the only two members of a closed book club.
“My elder brother came to visit last week, from Lagos. “ Mercy had said, sometime during the holidays, “He brought this book for me. I have just finished reading it and I brought it for you.” She handed the book over to Gloria.
“African Entrepreneurs and their Success Stories” Gloria read the title of the book out loud, and then asked “What is it about?”
“It is about some successful entrepreneurs in Africa, and how they achieved their success. You would love it, it’s very inspiring.”
“Thanks M.” She replied, excited to start reading the book. One of the reasons she loves Mercy is because she keeps helping her to grow and become a better person.
Mercy was right. She loved the book. She read it twice before returning it, and had made her father promise to get her a copy the next time he visited Lagos.
“Gloria, our exams are fast approaching oh, we need to start focusing more on past questions now.” Mercy said, bringing Gloria back to the present.
“Yes oh. Let us create a reading plan and stick to it. It will help us cover a lot before the exams commence.”
“Exactly.”
At that moment, Gloria’s attention was drawn to the guy crossing the street and walking towards them. Just like that, she felt the tingling in her chest and turning in her stomach. Her legs started to feel slightly weak, as though they were beginning to lose the capacity to keep her standing. She felt a dryness in her throat and mouth, and her eyes began to water. Her cheeks began to feel slightly hot, her breathing became increasingly difficult. It was as though the wind had been sucked out of the room, except that they were actually out on the street and the weather and atmosphere was exactly how it had been all day. Only one guy had ever made her feel this way. Just the sight of him literally took her breath away.
“Hey Gloria, Mercy, how far?”
“Hi Chima, Good afternoon. I didn’t know you were in town oh.” Mercy replied.
Gloria just smiled. As usual, the words were failing to form in her head. . . as usual. Thank God Mercy is here, this would have been more difficult that it is now, she thought.
“Yeah, my school is on strike, and I decided to come spend some days with my sister and her family here before travelling to the East.” Chima said, casting his glance at Gloria as he continued “Hi, Gloria. How are your mum and dad?”
Gloria nodded awkwardly, “F-f-fine” she replied, stammering as she struggled to form the words. Oh God, can he stop staring at me now with those perfect eyes, staring deep through his glasses as if he could see into my soul.
She quickly glanced at Mercy, silently begging her to save her from this awkwardness. Mercy smiled at her friend and turned to Chima,
“ So how has school been?”
“Fine jare, stressful as usual. Plus all these stupid ASUU strikes that would not even let someone graduate at the right time. Now they have started another one, indefinitely. I just hope the government will settle things with these lecturers so we can go to school and graduate in time. Unfortunately, one would graduate now, and companies would be placing ridiculous age limits on the job applications.” He sighed. “By the way, what are you planning to study?”
Mercy replied, proudly “Medicine. I would like to be a medical doctor like Dr Ola Orekunrin, the founder of Flying Doctors Nigeria. I read about her in my book, African Entrepreneurs and their Success Stories, and she has really inspired me. I hope to get an opportunity to meet her someday.”
“That’s great. How about you, Gloria?”
Gloria was still staring at Chima, lost in thought about his perfect lips and wondering how they would taste. Mercy nudged her a little.
“I would like to be a chartered accountant, and an angel investor. I would like to invest in start-ups and small companies, and help them grow. That way, I can at least contribute towards the growth of the Nigerian economy.”
Chima seemed impressed. He smiled and Gloria had to remind herself once again to breathe. Good breath in, bad breath out…she kept repeating in her head.
She had never been attracted to any of the guys around her since childhood. Even for the ones that had mustered the courage to ask her to be their girlfriends, she had turned down the offers as nicely as possible. The whole idea of having a boyfriend had seemed so amusing to her.
On one occasion, she had asked one of the guys:
“Okay, say I agree to become your girlfriend, then, what next?”
And the guy, confused by the question, had replied, “Erm, well, then we would be spending time together. I will be taking care of you and providing for you.”
She had burst out laughing, and after catching her breath, asked the guy,
“You would start taking care of me and providing for me? Can you even take care and provide for yourself? You, who is still in school and still staying with your parents.” And then she had started laughing again and left the guy standing there, feeling like the earth should open up and swallow him. Poor guy.
Standing here with Chima though, she just wished he would ask her to be his girlfriend.

CHAPTER 5

“All the very best dear. I know you have put so much effort into these exams. Just do your best and God will crown your efforts with success.” Gloria’s mother said, holding her daughter tight in her arms.
“Thanks Mummy. I have to go now so that I won’t be late for my first paper. I heard the invigilators will not be very friendly.” Gloria said, smiling.
“Bye dear.” Her mother said, releasing her so she could leave.
“Bye Mummy, see you soon.” She replied, as she ran out of the house with so much excitement.
It was the first day of their WAEC exams, and she could not keep calm. There were so many butterflies flying around in her stomach. She had prepared a lot for this day, and now that it was here, she was just excited to get started, to do everything right and make her parents proud.


As they settled down in the examination hall to commence the first paper, Gloria turned and waved at her best friend, Mercy. She was sitting some rows away from her.
The invigilators came in.
“Now everyone, get settled. No side talks, no funny movements. Look around you and make sure your books and jotters are not around you, they must be outside the hall. If you are found with any funny paper or material, or you are caught trying to talk to anyone, you will be disqualified from this exam.” The tall, dark, scary-looking invigilator announced.
Gloria was staring at him and wondering why he was taking things too seriously. Oga calm down joor, before you go and have a heart attack because of our WAEC, she thought to herself, smiling under her breath.
They started distributing the examination booklets, starting with the answer sheets, which the students were told to “fill the appropriate places with your names, examination numbers, examination center name and code, and all other required information, in block letters.” The scary-looking invigilator said, and then smiled and said,
“Block letters mean capital letters.” That comment sounded as though they were here to write the Common Entrance exams instead of the WAEC exams. Gloria shook her head.
Not long after the question papers were distributed, and the invigilator gave all his instructions, they were told to start.
Gloria quickly glanced through the questions. According to the instructions, they were to answer four out of the five questions, and question one was compulsory. As expected. Good thing, she knows how to answer all five questions. She and Mercy had even discussed the first question last week. She smiled to herself. Gloria could not wait to finish this paper and go tell her parents about today’s experience.
Just then, she heard some noise coming from outside the examination hall. Some men were trying to force their way into the hall. What is happening? Can’t these people see that we are writing one of our most important exams today? She thought.
Then the men stormed in. They fired gunshots into the air and everywhere became rowdy. The invigilators tried to run out of the hall, even the angry looking, tall, dark, scary invigilator, now looked more scared than scary.
Who are these men? What do they want? Gloria glanced at Mercy. Mercy looked scared.
One of the men shouted,
“Hey, everybody shut up! We are not here to kill you. We are just here to take most of you along with us. Once I point at you, just come out. If you behave yourselves, we would not hurt any of you.” He looked like their leader.
Someone from the back said, “Take us to where? We are writing our WAEC exams here oh. Today is the first day of the exam and . . .”
“Shut up! Girls like you are not supposed to be talking. You are to be in the shadows, taking care of men, not to be seen or to be heard. This is what western education has brought to our society, where girls and women no longer know their place.” The man was shouting, obviously passionate about whatever he was talking about.
Right then, Gloria did not care about women and their place in the society; she just wanted to see her parents, be held in her mother’s arms and told that everything would be okay.
“What – what is happening?” She asked Mercy, who had quickly moved to the side of her best friend.
“I don’t understand oh.” She replied. They were both scared.
The men had started pointing at some girls who were immediately being forced out of the examination hall. Everywhere was rowdy, the exam booklets were scattered on the floor.
The principal and teachers were nowhere to be found. It seemed like the girls had been abandoned to their fates.
Gloria felt a hand dragging her.
“Leave me! Leave me! I am not going with you!” She screamed, struggling as tears rolled down her cheeks.
The man slapped her, and she fell to the ground. He pulled her up and kept dragging her across the hall, towards the entrance. She saw Mercy beside her, crying as another man was also taking her out of the hall. They felt like sacrificial lambs, being led to the altar, with no one to help them, and no one to save them.
She was crying and thinking about her parents. She had not seen her father this morning because he had woken up early and left for the farm. He did not want to disturb her as he wanted her to have a good night's sleep the morning of her examination. Now she was wondering if she would ever see him again.
“Where are you taking us? Why us? How about our parents?” She began asking the man.
“Shut up! I will slap you again oh! All this school that you are going that makes you think you can just open your dirty mouth and talk to me!” he bellowed, obviously angry about her audacity to question him.

The men were loading the girls into a truck, like cargo. The scene looked the same way as when the traders would load their goods from her father’s farm with smiles on their faces after they had succeeded in exploiting the farmers.
The girls were crammed together inside the truck. It was dark and stuffy, and the girls were crying, begging and praying.
The truck began to move. The crying escalated. They could not see the direction in which they were headed but they could feel the bumpy road as the truck accelerated faster and faster away from their families and loved ones.
The girls kept crying.

CHAPTER 6

The school compound was overflowing with people: confused parents trying to get answers on the whereabouts of their daughters from the school's management, most of them agitated and angry. There were women crying, scared that they would never see their daughters again.
The men, their husbands, were trying to make sense of the situation. As expected, they had already started making plans to organize search parties, with groups of men taking turns to search inside and around the village, hopeful that they would find the men who kidnapped their daughters.
“You mean they just came in, picked our daughters, and drove away with them?” one man was asking.
“Yes oh, Mallam Yakubu, that’s exactly what they have been saying.” Mercy’s father replied. “They said they were handpicking the girls, and my Mercy is among them.”
“But, how did they even gain access to the children? What were the teachers and invigilators doing? Where is the Principal!?” Sanni asked, already boiling with anger.
“The men were armed with heavy guns, Sanni. What did you expect the teachers to do, fight them with chalk and markers?” One of the men replied.
“Calm down, Sanni. Blame games would not get us anywhere. Let us find a constructive solution to this predicament.” John said.
“So these terrorists, what exactly do they want with our girls?” Mallam Yakubu asked, obviously still confused about the role the girls are supposed to play.
“I don’t know oh, but people are saying it might be some kind of political stunt, or something like that.” John replied.
“Na wa oh. Which kain wahala be this one again? So they have issues with the government and they decided that the best stunt is to kidnap the daughters of innocent citizens? Why do they not just go ahead and kidnap the children of those useless politicians instead?” Mercy’s dad retorted, angrily.
“That’s one of the problems with this country oh. The politicians and big men mess up, and we are the ones that suffer the consequences. Is that not exactly what I have been complaining to you about, John?” Sanni said.
“So, what do we do now? What steps are we going to take? What do we tell our wives at home? What is the so-called government even going to do about it sef?” Yakubu asked.
“Mallam Yakubu, you had better forget about those useless politicians. It is only the money that will go into their pockets that they are concerned about. Let us organize search parties, we will go out there and search for our daughters, both in neighbouring villages and forests. The hunters amongst us will come with their guns! We would not rest until we get our daughters back! I would not rest until I get my Gloria back! She’s all I have. Eh, Gloria . . .” John glanced at his wife.

Esther Yaya was seated on the ground, her wrapper loosely tied around her waist, tears streaming down her cheeks, her hands on her head.
“Gloria oh, my Gloria, where have they taken you to now eh? Oh God! Gloria oh!” She was saying, in between her sobs.
Women were gathered around, mothers of the young girls who had left the house that morning with so much eagerness to commence their WAEC exams, and had now been taken away, snatched to an unknown location.
They were overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. Helpless because their innocent daughters had been taken away by unknown gunmen for reasons unknown to them, and they could not do anything about it. Hopeless because they wondered what would become of their girls. Would they even see them again?
“All we can do now is pray.” One of the women said.
“Oh God, please help our girls, please protect them wherever they are and bring them back to us.”
“Amen oh!” The women chorused, looking up to the sky and lifting up their hands towards the heavens.
It was still morning, but school activities had already been suspended for the day. Young girls who should have been having classes were roaming around the school premises.
Some parents had quickly come to pick up their daughters to take them home, scared that the gunmen might return for more girls, and not wanting their daughters to end up as one of the unfortunate victims.
The school, where they had confidently dropped off their girls in years past, and come back confidently to pick them up, with no worry about their safety, was suddenly no longer the safe haven it had always been. The school session was usually the easiest period for the parents, because they knew they could easily account for the whereabouts of their daughters, at least during school hours. Now, school seemed like a place where their daughters could go and never come back.
“Mummy, if you see the men that came to take these our seniors eh, very scary looking men, and they had these big, heavy guns oh.” One girl said to her mother, her eyes bulging with fear as she tried to explain how scary the men were. “Me, I am no longer going to that school again oh.” She concluded.
“My dear, just forget school first. School is not by force. You will be going to the market with me for now. At least, I stopped going to school after Form 5, and I did not die.” Her mother said.
“The school is no longer safe for our daughters. At least if they are with us, following us to the market, let us see who will come take them away from us then.” One of the women said, holding her two young daughters by her side and taking them away from the school.

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