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VICTIMS- Fiction - Literature (2) - Nairaland

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Sophia Amaka's Story: Accidental Baby Mama(a Fan Fiction) / Yewande Omotoso & Ayobami Adebayo Nominated Baileys Women’s Prize For Fiction / MARVEL CHRONICLES (science Fiction) (2) (3) (4)

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by slimany: 10:13am On Jan 08
Samadict:
Captivating from the start. Following closely. Keep it up madam.

.
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 3:04pm On Jan 12
I was discouraged people, I didn't know this story will make any head way. I am sorry for not updating. I will do that with all enthusiasm now grin grin grin
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 3:12pm On Jan 12
Rosemary33:
I was discouraged people, I didn't know this story will make any head way. I am sorry for not updating. I will do that with all enthusiasm now grin grin grin
We dey wait.
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 4:07pm On Jan 12
Episode 4

The Tent woke up to a fight between two women, Ukwuoma could not understand the reason for the excitements and pandemonium at first, the previous night was the worst night she has ever had.

The stories of yesterday all seemed like a dream to her, this morning she woke up to reality. She barely closed her eyes last night, but when shadows of the night finally took over her worn out soul, it was disrupted by the distant Morning Prayer call of an Imam.

The fight erupted shortly as she was about leaving the tent with Ogugua, after folding the mat.

“No be here the water dey before? Na ghost go carry am? No be this thief woman” one of the women was saying

“So na me you dey call thief abi, how you take know say na me carry your water? Na only me day this camp? Onye Ihuorihuo! (Stupid woman) the other woman responded in rage, panting heavily after being saved from the grip of her bulky Opponent
who has already forced her head under her thighs, and was using her back as a drum, her wrapper already loosed and her breast flapping side to side at every landing of her opponent’s folded fist, before they were separated by some laughing spectators.

Ukwuoma left the tent with Ogugua, she did not know what the morning will bring with it, but she desperately needed water. She saw some people moving to a particular direction with buckets in their hands so she decided to follow them, with Ogugua tagging along.

Her plans to leave with her son at the wake of dawn did not work as planned, no truck from the east came into the camp. She heard from her neighbors that the extremists did not allow any truck enter the city, and those that managed to enter were hijacked by Angry youths, who looted every supply in the trucks and in most cases, the drivers lost their lives.

The queue was long, it was difficult to see the tap from the spot she was standing. It was obvious some has been there since the wee hours of the morning as most people were lying on the ground, while others sat in groups, talking, while waiting for their turn to fetch water from the tap that ran at a snail
speed level.

From a short distant one could hear the voice of a preacher, screaming on top of his voice, as if he was in a ‘shout it loud’ voice competition.

“repent! Repent!!!... or you perish with the
sinners!!!...Jehovah God has come to wipe out the unserious and unrepentant Christians!!! The Devil has come down to burn Nigeria!!! Our sins has brought this calamity to us… repent now…” his voice rang high as he walked like a military Man on a match, up and down the area.

“He used to be the pastor of ‘Rapturable church ministry’ close to the main market, before it was burnt down” one of the men close to her said.

“eiyaaa… I heard he escaped through the back gate out of the church compound when they came looking for him, when he finally returned, the church has already gone up in flames, with one of his daughters inside”

“maybe the thing don make am mad, na em make em dey shout like this. Him wife Nkor?” another man put in

“ I heard she left with their sons when the rumor of this
killing started, they said she begged the pastor to go with them but he refused, saying the lord will protect him… the daughter also agreed to stay with him” answered the second man.

“see am na…, him God don protect am well and him daughter don die put, mtcheew…him still dey talk repent and perish”

“Which kind Perishing the Man dey talk way pass the wahala way we dey so ehn? Abeg make him carry him preaching commot for here abeg” someone else said

“ Na so that man dey shout this perish perish matter since four days wey im come here o, me I think say na craze dey worri am…"

"ehe now, na which kind person way dey this condition way him dey so, way dey still remember perish and repent” a woman among them
added.

Ukwuoma looked at the preacher again. Kunle, her husband never believed in eternal damnation and has never been a strong religious person when he was alive.
He believed that life is for the now, unlike her who has grown up having an Anglican Bishop as a father, ‘heaven at last’ was their watch word in the home.

Her father was disappointed when she brought Kunle home as the Man she wanted to marry. A Man that cannot even quote five scriptures of the Bible correctly, and his way of life could pass for what her parents termed ‘worldly’.

Her father gave in to her request of marying Kunle after many efforts to make her rethink her decision, she could vividly remember the looks on her mother’s face on her wedding day, her mother has always wanted her to marry an Anglican priest, as an honor to the
family, and as an example to her other sisters since she was the first daughter.

A sharp scream from a child beside her and a little tussle got her to her feet from where she was sitting before, Ogugua has bitten the child, while they fought over crown covers both were happily picking before.

Before she could get to the children, a young girl, gave Ogugua a hard knock on the head and the boy abandoned himself to the ground, gave out a loud cry with one of his fingers pointing to his head and the other finger from the left hand, pointing to the young girl as he saw Ukwuoma approaching.

“Why do you have to give him that hard knock on the
head, can't you see they were just children playing?” Ukwuoma asked the girl angrily.

“You no see watin him do my brother? Na the knock you go see, mchteeewww…” the little girls picks her
brother and walks away.

Once in a while, the queue is broken as someone tries to maneuver his or her way to get to a closer spot to the tap.

People where already getting impatient and uncontrollable at the tap before the big military gate was opened and three water supply tank trucks drove in.

The Tap would soon be deserted as people rushed towards the water tank trucks with their buckets. She picked Ogugua up, threw him on her back tactically, grabbed her bucket and left towards the trucks.

It took like forever before she could get a bucket of water, which reduced to half bucket, by the
time she pulled herself out of the crowed. Due to the struggles and fights that followed the process of getting the water, the military officials had to use cane on people who were getting agitated and uncontrollable.

More families arrived in the camp in numbers, thinning out the little food and water supplied that comes daily in the camp, causing congestion, and terrible heat both inside and outside the tents.

*

Going back to the tent after collecting the pitiable food giving to them, will be roasting them alive, so she decided to settle under the Nim tree for some fresh air, while she feeds her son with the beans giving to them as breakfast.

Beans has never been one of her favorite meal, she remembered that she normally forces herself to eat it before her children just to make them eat it.

The boy almost finished the food meant for both of them, his protruded stomach shone with stains of the liquid from the food, she gave him some water and the boy went off to play.

She brought the spoon close to her mouth, to eat the little that was left for her, tears streamed down her eyes as she remembered how it used to be.

She has fed a number of people, food has
never been a problem to them, there is always more than enough for everyone, even the neighbors.

Doc wife, as she was popularly called by neighbors has always been a generous woman, her house was always filled with children who have hope of filled stomachs before leaving her house.

Some mothers would deliberately send their children off to her, knowing that their kids would be well taken care of at the end of the day.

Theirs was a popular family, and she was the queen
of the neighborhood. ‘oh life! So unstable like the wind, you once looked upon me with beauty, but now you have taking away both the floor and the sleeping mat from me’ she thought.

Chewing the beans was like chewing a spoon filled with gravels, she shut her eyes as the food passes through her throat, cutting its way down her stomach, and settled like a stone in her belly, one spoon was enough to satisfy her.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and trailed the boy with her eyes, to make sure, he does not stray off.

Then she saw her again, the little girl that beat Ogugua at the Tap. Her little brother was crying uncontrollably, the little girl looks frustrated, trying to feed her little brother, who seems not be interested in the food, reminding her of Uwa Musa and the hard
time she did have each time she tries to feed Musa her only child.

“Uwa musa, what have become of her after that tragic
day?” She thought.

She could not stand hearing the cry of that little child,

“Abraham! no dey cry again na, abeg chop ehn,” the girl said amidst tears “oya chop three spoon, I go buy you sweet o” she pleaded with her brother.

Ukwuoma walked towards the children, settled Abraham on her lap and gently fed him while singing him a lullaby she learnt from her grandmother;

‘’Onye mere nwa nebe akwa
`Egb`e mere nwa nebe akwa
Wete uziza wete ose
Wete amara na ngwa ofe
Umu nnunu aracha ya
Okpo titi akpo gbue ya
`Egb`e ndo egbe ndo’’

The child slept on her lap soon after he finished eating, Ogugua took over the other lap in possession and jealousy.

“come and show me where to lay him’’ she said to the little girl, pulling Ogugua down.

Without saying anything, the girl led the way to the tent
adjacent to the one she stay, she balanced the child on her body, placing his head on her left shoulder, she held Ogugua

with her right hands and walked behind the girl.

2 Likes

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 4:47pm On Jan 12
Welcome back Rosemary33

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by damselposh(f): 6:44pm On Jan 12
Am laughing hard right now





Well done OP

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 7:19pm On Jan 12
Am following closely. Wow am imagining this in real life and am getting angry and amused at the same time

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 8:33pm On Jan 12
Welcome OP
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by germaphobe(m): 10:07pm On Jan 12
welcome back
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by pacifust058(m): 8:49am On Jan 13
Welcome back and thanks for the update
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 1:41pm On Jan 13
EPISODE 5


“The iyi-uwa that brought us all to life is buried deep inside this tree’’ one of the old men surrounding the huge Iroko tree said to her, pointing at the tree.
“This tree gave birth to us millions of years ago, she is the mother of all mothers” another spoke
“Look! The mother is pregnant again, and is about to deliver to life, our children!” a third Man spoke.
The cloud suddenly went dark around them, except for the beards and the white linens of the Men, darkness descended on them like the mighty hands of chukwuokike. Right before them, heaven opened her mouth, and one of her mighty princes descended on the Iroko tree, tearing the heavens with lightening and a loud cry that announces his presence. As quick as it came, the mother of all mothers gave out a deafening scream and opened her trunk.
“Come and see” one of the men held her hand and led her closer to the tree. She saw large numbers of young men, coming out of the tree, but as soon as they had their first breath of air, they picked axes and started shredding to pieces, the belly of the mother of all mothers.
“They are searching for the iyi-uwa that binds us all together; their mission is to cut it to pieces. They have been blinded by the strange wind around them, as soon as they find the Iyi-uwa, it is finished.”
The cry of agony from the Iroko tree filled her ears, for every stroke of the axe on the tree, she feels the sharp pain on her abdomen, as the tree bleeds so does she bleed. She let out a loud scream and the vision disappeared.


Ukwuoma woke up with an excruciating pain in her stomach, probably, the beans she eat earlier in the day has decided to come rioting in her stomach, but this time, it chooses to come with all the machineries of warfare, her body greased with her own sweat.

She looked at Ogugua her son, who turns from left to right while sleeping as if he was fighting with an unseen spirit.

The stab of sharp pain in her stomach hit her again, following a strong urge to visit the toilet. This would be the first time she would be visiting the toilet since she settled with her son in the camp, the first day she wanted to do the business, all the feces in her gut went on strike at the sight of the poor state of the public toilets constructed for them.

She quickly stood up and ran out of the tent, leaving behind thunderous murmuring from her buttocks. Without much care about how dirty the place would be, she relieved herself.

The night was cool and body soothing, with beautiful stars above, she walked inside the tent, met Ogugua still sleeping peacefully “how easy it is for him to adapt” she thought, not being in a hurry to abandon the pleasure of watching the stars and the romance from the cool hands of the night, she walked back outside.

There was a man seated on a dead wood few steps away from her, he has always sat on that spot, no one could say exactly when he came to the camp, people said he has never uttered any word since arrived, neither has anyone ever seen him eat anything, so frail and weak he was his look, his eyes, like that of a frog that was hit on a hard rock looked steadily at nothing, yet held so much stories.

Ukwuoma drew closer to him, for every step she took, she seemed to see this man clearer, she could easily count his ribs, his bones hung like branches of ‘osisi ukpaka’ his eyes looked steadily at hers, searching , beckoning, so she came closer and closer, until she sat beside him, he threw her no glace, neither did he blink.

Both sat there, in silence they sat, the wind soothed their pains, wrapped in the turbulences within them, the night became their Chi that listens even when no word was uttered.

Suddenly he uttered words, so faint was his voice yet so spell bounding, he was muttering to himself, but Ukwuoma listened to every word;

“Once there was this village where everybody was blind” he said “both big and small, old and young, male and female, people were colliding against things and each other, but no one was complaining, to the villagers, that was the way of life. Night and day, they happily wallowed in their blindness, their outstretched arms were their eyes, as they only felt their ways around, even though that was never enough, but they cared less. One day, a handsome young stranger came to that village, at first he was surprised at the great darkness enjoyed by this community, for so great was their blindness, then he became uncomfortable with the blindness, since he was blessed with the power of sight and light, he decided to help the community but they rejected his help, he tried talking to some of them so he could help them revive their sights, but he was seen as a strange fellow who did not understand the ways of the land, to the villagers, humans were supposed to be blind!
He fell in love with a maiden of that community who was the fairest of them all even though she was blind. But the lady could not come to him though she was also attracted to this stranger, because he was different, and was avoided by everyone in the village. Every day he went for this lady, the lady would feel his face and still found his bright eyes, she would push him away and turn her back on him. His heart hurt, his head sick, his love too heavy to ignore, his eyes became his woe, his once perfect heavenly gift of sight and light became a bad fire burning his every existence, a curse to him. Sitting with loneliness wrapped around him, he decided to do one thing in other to be accepted, give back to the gods what they gave him, first, he screamed to the gods to take back their gift, the earth shook, the lightening blasted, the thunders roared, his gift was taking away from him, then he plucked his eyes out, put them in a fancy jar, and took it to his fair lady as a gift.
The lady felt the gift, felt his face, felt the fresh blood streaming from the holes, she smiled, put her hands around him and welcomed him. He was accepted, and the whole village threw a party for him. A party of blind people, everyone hitting their heads on something or someone, yet they care less”


Ukwuoma waited to hear more of the story, what happened to the stranger and his love, what became of the community later, but the old man was done with his story, he would say no more, they both sat there with no more word.

Ukwuoma felt tear rolled down her eyes, she did not know how but she heard her heart calling out for the young stranger, she wept for the handsome stranger, she wept for the community, she wept for the old man, for herself, for her children hanging at the altar of Ra, he child sleeping and stocked in between two worlds.

Slowly she walked back to the tent, she did not look back but she knew the old man was still seated there, she felt his eyes burning her flesh.

As she was about to enter the tent, she heard a noise from a corner, she would have ignored but she wasn’t in a hurry to give up her soul to sleep. So she went to see, moving before her in the darkness was the young officer whose teeth was stained with tobacco, whose sweat smell of parboiled beans, and whose took her flesh as an exchange for a plate of food for Ogugua.

He was struggling to lay a little girl, who was wiggling like a worm in a fish hook under him, her appearance made him stop abruptly, giving the little girl the chance to wiggle out of him, gathering her torn cloths and hurried away before the office could stop her.

She looked hard at the little girls, recognition hit both of them, the girl lowered her gaze, muttered something and ran out.

The officer stood up from the floor, walked towards her, she was afraid of him, she wanted to walk away in a hurry but her leg couldn’t obey her.

He flashed his torch light on her face; she blinked severally as the harsh light blinded her;

“Sweet ‘kpomo’ as you don make my meat for this night go, make I do you na” he said thrusting his hard joystick in-between her laps.

She stood like a tree with many things going on in her mind, he grabbed her face, forced his tongue inside her mouth, without thinking she bit his tongue and he withdrew from her immediately, tasting his own blood.

“I don dey watch you since, pray say you no enter my trap, I go deal with you… and if I hear ‘pin’ about watin you see this night eh, na me go kill you, ashawo” he said and walk away.

She could hear Anger and threat in his voice; she shivered a little with fear, knowing that as long as she was in that Barrack with no husband and no money, he has powers over her.

That night she dreamt of headless figures, wallowing in darkness, with their outstretched arms as their sights, the feel their ways through while moving, dead men walking.


• * * * * * * *
Call me a wonderer and I will answer
Call me a tale bearer and I will answer
Since I lost my muscles and my fair lady,
All I do is scavenge for my daily meal,
While I bear old women’s tales.

I meet two shadows in the dark,
On my quest for a morsel to fill my stomach,
They were dancing a special kind of dance,
That kind of dance I once saw my late mother danced with my father,
One shadow was bent behind the other’s swollen buttocks.
I drew closer to the shadows,
Their voices were familiar,
The voice of the soldier that nearly smashed me with his boot today,
He plucked what was remaining of my antenna,
And made my misery great,
Then the voice of Mama Ikwu,
The woman whose massive breasts dangle like two large paw-paw,
Her back abdomen reminds me of that of our lazy queen,
Whose abdomen requires a separate room.

With my burden balanced on my head, I made towards my tiny hole of loneliness,
Behold Mama Ikwu with a plate filled with creamy substance,
She was the envy of other women as she proudly fed her children with her gain,
“A generous soldier gave me these’’ she said to her Mate (husband)
“A soldier that danced on your back abdomen’’ I said

I turned towards the corner of that sorrowful woman,
She was not there, but her sorrow sat like an idol at the spot she normally sits,
How beautiful was this sorrow,
It drew me closer to itself, with its alluring eyes it beckons,
The burden on my head and the rumbling in my stomach brought me back,
I crewed back to my hole, where loneliness awaits me, to eat the bread of pains
And wait for my dying day.

2 Likes

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 2:23pm On Jan 13
Hmmm
Thanks for the update

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by xaviercasmir(m): 2:41pm On Jan 13
Your story is really interesting. The way you infuse the Egyptian and Igbo cosmology is really cool. Keep it up!!!!!!!!

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 2:51pm On Jan 13
Interesting

Thanks for the update ma'am

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by germaphobe(m): 7:02pm On Jan 13
touched

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 7:22pm On Jan 13
Tanks for the update

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 9:13pm On Jan 13
Thanks dear. Keep 'em coming

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 11:37pm On Jan 13
xaviercasmir:
Your story is really interesting. The way you infuse the Egyptian and Igbo cosmology is really cool. Keep it up!!!!!!!!

Thank you too, it's an honor to have you comment on it
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 11:37pm On Jan 13
cuteguy14911:
Thanks dear. Keep 'em coming

Sure, thanks
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:05am On Jan 14
EPISODE 6

The day was Sunday and people were reluctant to leave there mats.

“Neighbor, Inaro eje Uka? (You no wan go church)Her neighbor asked, struggling with an old head tie that has holes on it, the head tie swallowed her forehead and part of her eye brows.

Her name was Mmasinachi, Ukwuoma later learnt, the day a fight broke out between her and her husband.

Mkpi na agba ewu! (He goat that mates every female goat) you think I no know say you dey knack that army woman eh? Now my body no good for you again eh Okechukwu, she don give you chop and clean mouth, her bolom-bolom nyash don enter your brain sotey you don forget say my own been your sweet honey before abi?” he neighbor has shouted angrily to her husband

The poor Man was a direct opposite of his voluminous wife, slender and fit, he could pass for a handsome man if not that the situation kept his beards over grown and his skin rough and hard like an iron sponge.

Who would blame the Man for always disappearing from the tent even before his wife drags her massive body off the mat, and like a dog he would find his way to Officer Fatima’s quarters where he would stay till dusk, only tiptoeing back to their corner when he was sure his wife must have gone to bed. Sometimes he came with a loaf of bread to compensate her and shut her up.

But that night Mmasinachi wouldn’t be bribed with bread and few tins of sardine, she had wanted sex and the poor man couldn’t get his joystick;
“This Toto no be for decoration, na for you to do the thing” she said holding him by the shirt, her body bouncing vigorously with every stump of her feet and movement of her hands.

Their pandemonium woke the already angry settlers, but they soon adjusted themselves and laughed heartedly as the rumble went on;

“if na me get this kine woman, I go even run away since sef, who wan sleep with hippopotamus, the man no wan die” someone commented from the crowd, arousing laughter from those around him.

“Oga give am knack na ah ah, no be only make you put your something for her something? Watin heard for there?” one woman shouted from afar

The Face shamed Man was rescued from his wife’s firm grip by other men, who promised Mmesomachi that they would talk to her husband and get him to find a conducive time and place to have sex with her.

Okechukwu, her husband hurried away with the men, leaving his wife swearing and raining curses on him and his mistress, the Army woman

“I dey beg you? I no dey bey you o, you think say na only you sabi knack army? I get plenty army men way wan hold this my nyash, na make I gree them remain…” Mmesomachi’s loud voice trailed her husband as he walked out with other men, amidst chuckles, snaring and nasty talks.

Ukwuoma wondered how husband and wife would be comfortable having sex in the tent not minding that other settlers might wake up in the night and see them, hasn’t she woken up to a cry of a baby, only to realize that the father and mother were having sex as if they were fighting, with the woman’s pant in her mouth to prevent her from moaning, the baby woke up and thought that his father was beating his mother.

The next day after Mmesomachi’s fight with her husband, Okechukwu was not seen in the tent and he didn’t return for two days.

“You said church?” Ukwuoma asked Mmesomachi

“Yes na, you no dey go church before? Abi you be idol worshiper? My children don go baff o, do fast make you follow us go, e get one church way dey come every Sunday for that big there…” Mmesomachi said to the reluctant Ukwuoma

“Okay, you can go, I will come with my son later…”

“Osi later? You no wan seat for front? Them dey share food o, e beta make you come early seat down for front, food fit no reach people way dey for back” Mmesomachi said

Ukwuoma tapped her Son gently, and led him outside with their bucket, brushes and some powders charcoal for brushing.

“Madam, no dey waste your time dey look for toothpaste here o, I cost, go for that their kitchen by that toilet side, collect charcoal grind am make you dey use am” someone had told her the next day after the day she came into the barracks, and was begging for toothpaste for her teeth.

*
The plastic seats were almost filled up by the time they got to there. It was as if they were not the only people who knew that foods would be coming to church that day.

Mmesomachi gave her a long stern look, and she knew the woman was blaming her for making them arrive late.

“Mama, this place no dey full like this before o” one of her daughters commented

“Don’t mind them, sinners that only seek Jesus for bread” Mmesoma added, as if she wasn’t eager to hijack both the bread bakery if giving the chance.

“…if you believe, all your sins will be forgiven and your problems over…” the young minister was saying from the wooden platform which served as the pulpit

The pulpit reminded Ukwuoma of her grandmother’s old kitchen table which had lost half of its legs to termites and was supported with stones to prevent it from falling.

She remembered one of the days she stole pieces of goat meats from her grandmother’s hot Onugbu soup, and the table lost its balance, sending both the pot of hot Onugbu [/i]soup and its hot content all over her.

She had planned with her Cousin Jonah to strangle one of their grandmother’s goats so they could be able to eat meat after a long time, since their grandmother would not kill and cook any of those goats except any of them dies of sickness or accident. But when the goat was killed and part of it used for soup, Jonah was giving a large chunk while she got one piece and few pieces of [i]Mangala
fish.

Her grandmother had slapped two teeth out of her mouth that day as she was caught with a piece of the meet in her mouth and one in her hand, added to the two she already eaten. She had cried, jumping up and down like a frog in a hot water, with spittle gushing out of her mouth and the meat in her mouth falling off with her teeth, mixed with blood and the color of the soup.

“Ima ego ole m jiri sie ofe a ikwafuru? (do you know how much I used in preparing this soup you just poured away)” her grandmother had cried bitterly for the soup, as if she was mourning her dead child, not even her red skin from the hotness of the soup had mattered to her grandmother.

“Mummy, I wan drink water…” Ogugua tugged her skirt and brought her mind back to the preacher’s voice

She opened the old container she picked few days ago, which now serves as their drinking water can, and gave Ogugua to drink. The child gulped the content greedily, spilling half of it on his body. He coughed so heard, drawing attentions to them.

“…Judgement is for sinners, poverty is for sinners, if you are in Jesus, your life will change like mine did…” the preacher continued
“Oga we no wan hear again, abeg do commot there make we chop…”An elderly man muttered behind her

“…my helper oh my helper
My helper oh my helper
There is something that makes me
Come into your presence my helper…”
the preacher broke into singing, while the congregation joined with clapping and dancing

“We are going to take communion, I will bless it and it will turn into the body and the blood of Jesus Christ…if you receive this, you will not die again!”

“Amen!”

“You will not thirst again!”

“Amen”

People were filing out to receive the pieces of bread and the Zobo drink, out of hunger more than out of religion;

“Drink plenty Zobo, make you take that one hold belle before the food” A mother told her son

She stood up too and joined. Her grandmother had changed her perspective about communion and the Whiteman’s religion. Though her father was a bishop, her grandmother stopped going to church and became a traditionalist.

On her dying bed, Ukwuoma’s father had wanted to give the woman a communion, but she had declined and had said in her old frail voice:

“Where we raise the Kola nut made by God, you people raised your bread made by man. When we declare ‘HE WHO BRINGS Kola BRINGS LIFE’ you people declare ‘THIS IS THE BREAD OF LIFE’. We offer thanks, you also offer thanks. We blessed the congregation; you too blessed your congregation. we call on our Ndichie and worthy ancestors by their name: Okeke,okafo,Okoronkwo,Okorie,Igbokwe, Odenigbo, in the communion of the living and the dead to come and partake in our Kola, you also call on your Ndichie and ancestors by the name: St Peter, St Paul, St Philips, St Caro, to come and partake in your bread and wine. We break the Kola, and you also break your bread and wine. My son, a true concentrated Kola is the Kolanut”

As the warm Zobo touched her lips, she realized how hungry she was; she widened her palm to accommodate more bread crumbs and wished she could have more of the Zobo.

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by germaphobe(m): 4:06pm On Jan 14
keep up the work op rossy

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 4:23pm On Jan 14
Well done op

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by xaviercasmir(m): 4:38pm On Jan 14
another interesting one there. Keep it up

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 4:52pm On Jan 14
Tanks OP

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 5:16pm On Jan 14
Loving em dear...... This is so amusing. Thanks Rosy.

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 8:21pm On Jan 14
[quote author=cuteguy14911 post=74759808]Loving em dear...... This is so amusing. Thanks Rosy. [/quote
Thank you so much]
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 2:23pm On Jan 15
EPISODE 7

Ukwuoma was seated at her favorite Nim tree, watching Ogugua chase grasshoppers and butterflies. The child’s stomach has been growing bigger and bigger and it worried her, he has developed fever two nights ago which disappeared once the sun came up.

Her eyes caught a figure from afar, the girl she saw with the young officer was walking rapidly towards her, she halted on seeing Ukwuoma seated under the tree, she was carrying a bowel and a waterproof bag. With her eyes on the floor, she muttered something and wanted to hurry away

“Ehn…wait…” Ukwuoma called her back

The girl looked at her, and walked on. She had a shawl over her head.

“Please!” Ukwuoma pleaded at her, as she stood up to walk towards the girl

“Watin you want?” The girl asked looking around uncomfortably

“I just want to know how your brother Abraham is doing, he was sick the last time I saw him” Ukwuoma said. Getting to the girl and placing her hand on her shoulder. The girl shrugged it off.

“He is fine, I want to give him food and drugs” the girl surprised Ukwuoma with her English.

“Can I come and see him sometimes?” Ukwuoma asked

The girl looked at her abruptly, she couldn’t understand why this woman wanted to hang around her and her brother, she wanted to avoid Ukwuoma like a plague for the good of herself and her brother

“Ehm no Ma…yes Ma…he will not like you …”

“I can try…”

The girl swallowed hard, it was obvious she was afraid of something or someone, Ukwuoma was bent on finding out.

*

“He said I shouldn’t tell anyone that I will end up making myself a laughing stock” the girl said

“Why?” Ukwuoma asked

“He said that every woman is doing it and that is how to survive here”

“And you agreed with him?”

“Yes na, watin I for do, my brother would die if I no gree!”

The girl held her face with her hands and sobbed. She reminded her of herself, the child has been forced to become a woman by circumstances.

She was vulnerable, Ukwuoma could see that now, that beyond the tough skin the girl seated by her was still a child and is afraid and bitter.

“Since when has he been doing this to you?” Ukwuoma asked

“I no fit remember how many time, but the first time, he asked me to come to his office and he would give me more food with liquid milk for my brother, Abraham likes Liquid milks a lot, so I went to his office…I didn’t want to do it, he forced me, he said my brother would die and I would be responsible…”

The girl broke off; she was choking with her own sob. Every tale she let out painted pictures of Ukwuoma’s story, reminding her of what was taking from her, driving the blade deeper into her heart.

She may not remember the faces of those that took her family, only the gores and hanging flesh that would hunt her dreams, but the face of the young officer with his sinister victorious laugh after he had his way with her would always remain with her.

“…it was so painful, I told him to stop but he didn’t…”

“Why didn’t you stop after that?” Ukwuoma asked

“That was the only way my brother could get better feeding and drugs, he keep coming back to me with these offers and threats, as long as I agree with him, he will take care of my brother, but if I don’t, he would make sure we don’t get anything here…”

“The night I saw both of you?”

The girl started crying again, Ukwuoma held her, placing her head on her shoulder and tapping her gently, but within her, something was building, something ugly, and something dark.

“I was sleeping when he came inside the tent to call me, his other Army friends used me that night, he brought them along, he said he would love to see them do it with me, I begged him but he said it was the only way to prove my appreciation to all he has done for me and my brother, they were drunk. After they left, he wanted to do it from the back but…but…it was so tight and hurt so badly…then you came in”

“Jesus Christ! And you went there again today?” Ukwuoma asked

“I am scared of making him angry, he can do anything to us… he didn’t do anything to me today”

Ukwuoma held her knees with her hands, rocking herself back and forth. As much anger and resentment she harbored towards this Man, she knew the poor girl was saying the truth, they where all at the mercy of these powerful corrupt new task masters who could dangle hunger and food as baits to get them on their knees begging.

The girl sniffed and straightened herself;

“Why am I even telling you this? You are no better than any of us, you also have sex with him…” the girl said challenging

“He told you that?” Ukwuoma asked, not looking at the girl, but at an empty space

“And more…he warned me not to even talk to you that you are dangerous”

She didn’t know why, but she felt a connection between this girl and herself, she felt the failure and shame of not fighting for her dead children, she felt life giving her another chance change the guilt she felt every day, she felt something more deep in her gut, and it scares her

“I was raped…by that bastard” she said coldly to the girl.

Later that night, as she sat silently on the spot she always sit with the old man, with Ogugua sleeping and battling with fever, she muttered to herself, how on earth did she get here? Why would she be in this condition? How could she lose everything in months, why would God or any other deity out there abandon her and give her the heavy burden of a mad woman, a sack that contained nothing? Who did she offend?
Then the cry came, from the depth of her core, a gut wrenching cry that tore the fabrics of her being and blocked her brain from reality. After the tears, came the guttural laughter that was scary even in the dead of the night, the few dwellers that passed by looked at her and concluded that she was mad;

“This one don mad be that o” one said

“Who no go mad for this place, this place alone no be madness?”

She was transported to the time where she chased “Okpana” in her grandmothers’ farm; she was just the girl’s age, the girl that had become meat for the pleasure of the young Officer and his friends.

The girl heard her cry and her laughter; she carefully came out and watched the older woman drown in her misery.


*

The silence is deafening
I can feel the troubled souls from the sound of their breath even as they sleep
As I creep out from the little hole that houses me in the day in search of the crumbs from their plates
I see her, this woman, still awake muttering words to herself
Too distance in her thoughts to notice me picking from what is left of their food
That is the advantage of being an Ant
This place used to be our colony, with one of the most beautify mansions owned by Ants
What do humans call it again? ‘Ant Hill’ yes! I got that from one of them when they came to destroy our home that has housed hundreds of thousands of us, many of us died of stampede
Others left in search of a better place
I choose to stay with few others, hoping to make something out of this whole situation.
As I make it back to my hole, with some food balanced on top of my head
I have that usual feeling that her story is not yet ended, so I will hang around, if possible, journey with her as she journeys
But tonight sleeps on… tomorrow holds another story …
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 3:04pm On Jan 15
Hmmm
Well done Rosemary33

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by izaray(f): 3:42pm On Jan 15
Thanks for the update ma'am

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 4:57pm On Jan 15
Tanks for the update

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by anneboy02(m): 8:57pm On Jan 15
Well written

I really doff my cap 4 u

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 9:23pm On Jan 15
God bless you Rosy Rosy


Nna am following with much enthusiasm

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