It was with great shock and anxiety that we greeted the news of the civil war. Our tribe had broken out of the country and demanded a state of its own thus going against the forces of the state. The initial reluctance of the leadership of the country to take affirmative action against the 'rebel group' was followed by the sound of multiple explosions in our backyard as the country's military dropped bomb shells in 'rebel territory'. We panicked greatly and evacuated our homes in fear,running,and running not knowing where we were going to. It was a war and we were at the wrong side of the divide. We were not even consulted before the rebels took action,we went about our daily activities not minding what happened in the media,all we ever wanted was to make a living out of the hell of a country we found ourselves. Yes! We were not pleased by the happenings in the country but we never saw war as the solution,we just wanted our leaders and representatives to represent us better,thus the amount of shock that greeted our hearts when we saw the announcement on tv about the declaration of our tribe as a state and the forthcoming war.

We ran for days,aimed for the new international border hoping that we could get into the larger country territory where the war was not so much effective-they say when an elephant and a dog fight,it is the dog that suffers no matter how loud it can bark or how deep it can bite,it would have to get to the elephant first before biting. We had crossed two towns after running and resting mildly for four days when we encountered the unified rebel force of our tribe. They were well armed and guarded,regaled in battle clothes and stern in looks. They promised to protect us although offered us so much less of a choice and led us to a concentration camp where they kept civilians-or so we thought. The camp was big and full,and there was enough food to go round but the supplies were becoming limited,if this war persists they wont survive much longer. We were led to a small settlement within the camp which we occupied with two other families,food was rationed in quantity and delivery but was regular,morning and night. We were addressed by the commander who assured us that we'll be well taken care of and promised us that we'll survive the war and emerge victorious,gain our own state and start our country,an assurance that was greeted with large cheers by the gullible but the sane were hardly convinced.

Days passed and weeks followed,we received news about the proceedings of the war weekly and heard the bombs,gunshots and other sounds that portray these periods. We always received assurance but we were hardly convinced and as the war lingered the assurances stopped coming and the personnel and supplies in the camp dropped. The reality of the situation began to dawn on us as we felt the sorrow of our fellows as they received news that theirs loved ones had fallen. We were consoled with knowing all our loved ones were together and safe in the camp. On a sunday evening,three weeks after the war started our consolation was stolen when the commander announced that they need extra men for the struggle,a demand that saw the rebel forces take our brother from us,but for my age I would have been taken too. His departure made us cry more and pray more. We never used to believe in God,but with the war came a need to believe something and God was the obvious answer,many have prayed,we are not sure of answers but we had to believe that He'll answer our call to return our brother to us,if he does not heed our call to end the war.

As time exceeded our count,we were left to ourselves in the camp,just the civilians,all the men were committed to battle as the rebel forces were losing the battle to the country's army who were fueled by their resources and influence while we wallow in isolation. With the civilians left to themselves,they began to mistreat each other,playing down the much talked about spirit of brotherhood. Times like this reveal your true family,the rapes,stealing and killing became rampant. My sister would have fallen victim to these assaults if not for the doggedness of our father who fought to ensure she was not touched,a battle he won but lost his life for,the assailants ran away as my father's lifeless body dropped to the ground. Our grief could not be cured and we knew at once it was time to leave the camp.

At the early hours of the next day we left the camp. My mum,sis and I were all that was remaining from our family. We headed for the border and trailed our sorrow as we saw the visuals of the war. Burnt houses to burnt cars and the bodies of the scores that have fallen to the war. We could not contain ourselves as we thought of the fate of our brother who might still be fighting out there. "God will protect him",my mum said as she sought some form of consolation for us but the tears only fell further. I was the man in the house now,I had to be strong for my family and for my dad. I held my sister's hands and pressed her face against my chest to give her succour,I could hear the rumble of her tummy as they announce the existence of hunger within them,we had not eaten for 3days and there was no sight of food anywhere near.

As we passed the scores of dead we could not help but notice the sight of a dead boy that looked very much like our brother. He and others seemed to have been shot in the truck conveying them,giving them very little chance of escape,the tears were already rolling down when our mother assured us that he wasn't our brother and some how I believed,they say the bond of a brother is almost unbreakable,I would be the first to know if my brother was dead,and my brother would not be so unjust as to die and leave me alone to bear the new family cross I have been bestowed with. We continued to walk through the road towards the border when we found a car that was left on the road. It was our chariot from heaven,I drove it through the lonely road and headed for the border thanking my father for forcing me to learn how to drive at such an early age. The sound of fighting became more intense as we got closer to the border,our mother suggested we stop but I was adamant we could get to the border unharmed so I drove on.

On getting to the bridge that separated both territories we were greeted by men of the unified rebel army who apprehended us and accused us of attempting to desert the course. We pleaded profusely but our pleas fell on deaf ears. The sight of my sister seemed to have excited them,she was a very beautiful girl,they pulled her away and tore her shirt. I attacked them one by one as I shouted that I'd rather die than watch them rape her,but could not get far as they launched their punches on me sending me to the floor,only then did I notice that my mother was also being attacked. They both shouted at them and cursed as they were being raped,right there in the broad day light on the high way. I forced myself up and fought with them,an action that made me receive a bullet on my chest. I fell to the floor as blood gushed out,there was nothing I could do to stop them,I laid there helpless seeing how what my father died for had been destroyed,and how I failed to prevent it,I was 16,there was little I could do but I felt guilty. A guilt I will live with for the rest of my life. My vision began to fade as another man was about taking his turn on my sister when the sounds of gunshots and bodies dropping on the floor dispersed the men. I closed my eyes and gave in to my pains.

Nine weeks had gone since the war started,I opened my eyes and found myself in a hospital,my mum and sis by my side. We were already at the other side of the country. I was told by my mum that the country army had attacked our assailants and rescued us. We were finally safe. I was ashamed of myself but my mum tried her best to praise my heroics and spoke of how much she was proud of me for standing up for them, but I was never pleased with myself. If I had heeded her call to slow down then those things would have not happened. She told me it was because of me we were safe but I found that hard to believe.

Eleven days after we were rescued by the national troops,the war ended with an announcement of no victor no vanquished with images of those who declared the war smiling at each other. They said the aim of the struggle was the unification of the country and we could be proud of what we achieved as the war brought out a better way to relate with ourselves. "There is no need for us to fight,with proper dialogue and resolution we can iron out our differences...We should always remember we are brothers and our country will always remain united",they said. Statements that poured shit on our faces. They made us kill ourselves and laugh about it on national television. They exploited us,stole our resources,made us lose loved ones and they say its alright and call us 'heroes'. The sins of this nation will never be forgiven nor forgotten until the blood of the innocents is avenged.

We were told those who 'volunteered' to join the rebel forces who are still alive would be re-united with their families,we could not loose hope on our brother so we followed their instructions and we found some joy as he returned to us. A war that was bitter and sour has left some sort of sweetness for us. We greeted him with joy,he suffered lots of bruises and he was on the loosing side of the war,he would never be remembered for anything in this war and would never be regarded as an hero but he was one to us. He called us his hero but we knew he was the hero for making our prayers come through. He told of his horrible experiences and we narrated ours,he greeted my courage but I would not be consoled. This experiences made us broken,we would never be the same again. My mother and sister would never recover from the horrors of the rape,I would not recover from the horror of watching them get raped and the bullet wound on my chest would always remind me of it,my brother would never recover from the horror of fighting the war,and we all would never recover from the horror of loosing our father,but in this we owe our survival to ourselves,we were our own heroes and broken heroes we were.


Elvis Osho
#WarTales #Fiction