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Stats: 2,184,006 members, 4,761,647 topics. Date: Friday, 15 February 2019 at 08:46 PM
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by germaphobe(m): 11:37pm On Jan 15|
thanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 3:24pm On Jan 16|
“Your pikin dey die o, make you fine something do” Mmesomachi said to her with worries
That was how she started her day on Monday; the boy was convulsing badly, his body, so hot that it can boil a pot of native corn in few minutes.
“Pour am water na make the fever come down first” one woman suggested
“No o, him go die o, put spoon for him mouth first make him teeth no close” and so a spoon was forced inside his mouth
She had never believed in traditional remedies as a cure for sickness, Tunde her husband would have laughed at her now as she ran around like a headless chicken obeying these women around her just to see that Ogugua didn’t die
“For my village, na coconut water and palm oil we dey use cure this kine one, na evil spirit dey worry am”
“Maybe na Ogbanje, na so them dey do…”
Her mother would have prayed and bathed the child with olive oil, but she couldn’t remember the last time she prayed or even how to pray any longer. She held the child who was sweating profusely under the many wrappers used as covering for him, shaking her stretched legs and sobbing to the pity of onlookers whom was ignorant of what else to do to help, she was being hysteria;
“Madam, make you go for them Army hospital na, go explain give them, them go helep you”
“Them no go gree, na only those good Samaritan people way dey come give free injections and drugs na dem they helep us here, that Army people hospital na for only people way go fit pay money”
The free drugs by some medical organizations were majorly parasitamol and vitamin c, though it was rumored that most Anti-malaria and serious ailment drugs were being stolen by those in charge before it got to the camp, and were resold to drug store owners.
“Na him make I like as I dey, I no get husband I no get pikin, na so I go dey run around like blind fly, mtcheewww” Joyce muttered as she walked pass the hysteric woman.
Joyce has always lived and fed well in the camp, to the envy of other settlers. It was rumored that she knew almost all the top ranked military officers in the barrack and she grabbed every opportunity to confirm the rumor.
“I could get myself out of this godforsaken place any minute if I so wish, just a phone call and I will be cooling off in any good house in Abuja” she had boasted to one woman on a Sunday evening who was struggling to fed her two year old baby, amidst the mucus running down the baby’s nose into his mouth.
“Linus Mba! (A popular name giving to liars in local parlance)Why are you here sharing the same little space and bacteria infested air with us?” Another woman had muttered under her breath, this had resulted into some exchange of bitter words and blows, leaving Joyce’s clean Okirika gown torn to shreds. It was as if the woman was targeting the poor dress.
Nmesomachi couldn’t stand her neighbor with the dying child, she stood up from her mat, wiped her hands stained with dirty perspirations, grabbed the child and turned to the entrance;
“Make we go try beg them, them no go see pikin way dey die come leave am like that”
“Madam I say them no go gree eh” someone shouted behind her
“I go dump the pikin for their donmot” she stomped out of the tent, he heavy feet frightening the grasses as it made contact with the ground ‘idim idim’
Ukwuoma jerked up like a dead woman came to life, she adjusted her wrapper which was fallen down her body exposing a bra that the elastics was sagged to the point that it needed to be tied in other to hold the already fallen breasts, she ran out with Mmesomachi,
“Ewo, women and their children, see as that one wan die because of one pikin…”
“I hear say the pikin no be she get am, her pikin them don die tey tey, this one na pick she pick am” Oga Sam replied his wife
“You say watin? So this one no be her pikin and she wan die put? Nawa o” his wife asked
“I believe say that woman don dey kolo, you no dey watch am? The way she dey behave sometimes, me sef dey fear am, chai poor woman, this life fit make person craze I swear” a young man commented, carrying a bucket of water and an old news paper.
“My own be say, if na me, I for don troway this pikin since…ah ah! Why I go dey suffer on top another person matter? I no fit o” Oga Sam’s wife added.
“I wan see dokinta!”
The two women arrived at the military hospital, Mmesomachi dashed in with the dying baby first before Ukwuoma. She shoved people at the reception front desk with her bulky body; others gave way on their own due to the odor oozing out of her body that slapped the nostril, announcing her presence even before one sees her.
“Madam what is it! Can’t you see queue? Please go to and wait till it gets to your turn!?” shouted the angry nurse
“You no see say na emergency? This pikin wan die and you say make I wait!” Mmesomachi shouted back
“Madam go to the back and wait for your turn please and stop increasing our sickness with your smell” a woman with her own child commented, arousing murmurings of agreements from other patients
“Anuofia! Na your mama dey smell you hear? All your generation and village people dey smell! Ewu Gambia, I blame you? mtcheeewww” she turned back to the Nurses at the receptionist, one had her eyes glued on the television hanged on the wall, and was smiling sheepishly at a scene where an Indian woman was being kissed by a man.
“Please mu Sisters, you people should help me, my son is dying of convulsion, I don’t have anywhere to go too, please help me I am begging you…” she broke down in tears
The first nurse looked at her from hair to toe for a while; she stood up and pushed her bulky body away from the counter to examine the child;
“You follow for those refugees them” it was a comment made with disdain
“Yes…yes we are” Ukwuoma answered with anticipation
“We no dey treat una here na, ah ah, you go go see those doctors way dey give free medicine” The nurse said to her with dismissal
Ukwuoma clapped her hands in resignation and places her hands on her head, looking sideways like a drowning woman
“Na lie, you go treat this boy today! No be human being we be? Pikin way remain small make him die na him you say make we go see which person?” Mmesomachi screamed
But the nurse was through with them; she walked back to her seat, pulled her fat short feet off her black flat shoes, and called out a name.
“Madam, follow me, I will take you to a matron who I believe would do something for your baby” someone said to Ukwuoma who was leaning on the wall, with her hands on her head and tears streaming down her face.
When they got to the house, Ogugua was almost lifeless, the three knocked on the door and it opened, on seeing the child spread on the arms of Mmesomachi, the old woman took the child from them and ushered them in without words.
Imam Ali Husayn ibn stood by the window of one of his rooms which he had turned into an office. He checked his watch periodically and looked out from the window impatiently.
If there was any time to achieve their aim and force the hand of this government it would be now. Time is running short and his men are thinning out with the country fighting them back. There was need for recruitment and he has made arrangements for that.
The Jos riot had produced positive results and it was time to push their secret agenda to the parliament, the state and the federal government would have no option than to obey their bidding as the his boys killing and maiming was beginning to bother the government.
“It is either the law is passed or nothing, the will of Allah must be done” he muttered
There was a rasp on the door, Abdul walked in with a file, and his face lit with smiles, Ali Husayn ibn knew that good news was on the way.
“As-salamu alaikum” Yusuf greeted
“Wa-Alaikum s-Salam” Husayn responded rubbing his two palms together
“Here are the list of names I intent to recruit for this task sir, we have started already, though some needs more convincing than the others, but they will come around” Yusuf handed the file to Husayn who examined the names and gave it back to Yusuf.
Yusuf, the only son of the Imam’s elder sister, has been a faithful ally to the secret sect since he was twelve, his grandfather, Husayn’s late father, the previous Imam, was stubborn and believed that Allah fights his own battles if need be.
Husayn has been impatient with the old man; he was too slow for his liking and always preached peace with the infidels, these infidels that took over the state, dating marrying their girls, and erecting their churches with impunity. He was now in the position to change these things and he would.
He started raising Yusuf even before his father died, Yusuf and some other young boys, with the help of other faithful who hated the late Imam’s reluctance.
“What about our men in the Army and in the government” Husayn asked
“They have been taking care of sir”
“It doesn’t look like they are helping us, their men are killing our boys”
“that has been discussed sir, and General Ali said he will do something to delay orders sir”
“Good, do the needful…Allah will be pleased with you” Husayn dismissed the young Man
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 8:02pm On Jan 16|
Thanks for the update ma'am
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 8:21pm On Jan 16|
Thanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 11:05pm On Jan 16|
Rose is back for real
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 11:08pm On Jan 16|
Rosy Rosy... Thanks dear. Keep it up.
P.s ... I pray nothing happens to that adopted son of hers if not hmmmmmm.......
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 8:03am On Jan 17|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 8:04am On Jan 17|
cuteguy14911:... I dey reason am ... Okay he will not die...
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 8:06am On Jan 17|
But seriously guys, you people are the real MVPs. You are my motivation and driving force, I write each episode every new day because you have proven to always be here to read.
Thank you so much
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 9:45am On Jan 17|
You're fully welcome ma'am
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 9:56am On Jan 17|
Awwn, I want more. This is really nice
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 12:44pm On Jan 17|
queenitee:And more you will get, thank you for reading. I am greatful
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by izaray(f): 1:11pm On Jan 17|
Rosemary33:Ma'am anything for the girls
We ur fans are still waiting patiently tho
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 2:49pm On Jan 17|
izaray:sure, before the day runs out
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by izaray(f): 2:52pm On Jan 17|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Chikebranny123(m): 7:51pm On Jan 17|
My � , the way u describe the rape side....
The emotional bind
The story telling with the hunger to tell someone ....
Is quite impressive....
Are you also a psychologist
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Chikebranny123(m): 7:52pm On Jan 17|
now the d@y is over....
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 8:58pm On Jan 17|
Chikebranny123:sorry i came home late, and was in the kitchen till few minutes ago. i am here now
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 9:05pm On Jan 17|
“Kpam!” Mmesomachi slapped her palm on her shoulder as she felt the sting of a mosquito.
“This yeye mosquito eh, if I manage go heaven I go vex for Baba God say why him create this kin this sef” she muttered
She looked at the young woman sleeping with abandonment beside her and shook her head; she knew Ukwuoma would be on her mid thirties, her firm skin gave that away.
Her guess rested on her sunken cheeks and the aggressive muscles standing like two warriors on a fighting contest. Mosquitoes were perching on her and she didn’t even stir, except the periodic unconscious nodding of her head like an agama lizard which fall from a tree.
The young woman reminded Mmesomachi of herself years ago. She wasn’t usually fat, during her school days she was so slim that she earned the name ‘dotted I’.
And then she got married, Okechukwu could carry her around without wincing, life was beautiful at least they were able to rent and paid for two rooms where Okechukwu would place her back on the wall, hung her legs on his shoulders and Bleep her while she would scream to the envy of the other women in the yard.
She loved the look on those women’s faces whenever she came out with a piece of wrapper tied round her chest and her body full of sweats, she knew the loud envy in their minds even without them saying it.
Then came the babies, and her body began to change, at first it was getting fuller and rounder, her husband loved it;
“Ukwu gi a na ebu kwa (your hips are getting larger)lekwa ka ona aku igba ma I na eje (it dances to the rhythms of a drum while you walk)” He husband would tease her
She was young and fresh and she was the desire and allurement of every young men in their street, she knew they were attracted to her buttocks and she would always shake it provocatively, though it got Okechukwu worried and angry once in a while. A particular scenario would always amuse her; the day Aminu’s wife caught Aminu looking at her dancing buttocks and licking his lips, the poor woman had drawn a pestle and had ran after her husband round the yard, cursing and swearing in Hausa, to the amusement of other tenants.
As the babies kept coming so did the fat, he husband became worried and started throwing comments at her
“Nne marakwa ihe I ga eme onwe gi, I dizikwa ka udu mmiri (know what you will do about your size, you now look like a large water pot)”
Her neighbors did their parts also,
“Make you no dey chop too much na haba! See as you done big reach”
“Your husband go leave you go meet another woman o”
“oya make you no dey chop for morning again, dey drink lemon water and slimming tea, make you dey eat only small food for night”
But the fats didn’t leave; it was as if the whole fat community decided to relocate to her body. As the fats gathered so did their finance diminished, money was no longer easy for them to come by and this infuriated her husband more.
He secretly blamed her for bringing misfortune to him; it was as if she getting fat was draining their pocket. If there was a place she could sell the fats in other to get their money back, she would have done so.
Mmesomachi walked inside the room where the sleeping Ogugua lay, she watched as the child’s chest raised and fell at the rhythm of his breath. She checked the boy’s temperature with the back of her hand and nodded.
She struggled so hard not to remember the death that had visited her and had worsened her situation. She had lost everything with the death of her only son;
“He had yellow fever” the doctor had told them
“You brought him very late, we are sorry we couldn’t save him” it was like a nightmare to her.
She left her husband with the dead child in the hospital and had run like a man woman, with tears blinding her; she headed to the road without looking.
“Mtcheewww” she hissed as she walked back to the sitting room where Ukwuoma was still sleeping.
“Nkonye nwam, I were gbaba nne gi aka nwoke (My son Nkonye, you left me with no male child)” she said to herself with sadness, quickly suppressing those memories for the time being.
Mmesomachi shooed away mosquitoes from Ukwuoma’s body;
“I no even believe say mosquitoes go still dey for this kine place too, I think say na for only our tent the thing full”
Her stomach was also beginning to complain. She ran her palm on her belly that stood like a community mortar, the stomach sat with her as she assumed her seat, the vibration from her buttocks awoken Ukwuoma.
Ukwuoma looked around like someone that was lost, wiped the spittle that ran down to her jaw with the back of her hands.
“Night don dey reach o” She muttered
They have been at the old woman’s house for long, and had only a bottle of coke each, with few pieces of chin-chin, scantily spread on a flat plate like a decoration.
“Eeh… I say make I no wake you, I no say your mind no go rest if you dey awake” Mmesomachi replied
“Abeg, you don hear my pikin talk? Watin the woman talk say dey worry am?” Ukwuoma resumed her worries
“She don commot, she talk say the pikin don dey okey small, but him dey sleep.
“eeh ehh? God I thank you” Ukwuoma gave a sigh of relief.
She scratched her chin and looked at her unkept finger nails; she wasn’t surprised at the heap of debris that attached themselves inside her nails,
“Oga ezu I ru ulo (It will be enough to build a house)” her father would have said
She had not have her bath for two days now, the general tap wasn’t running and the water tankers did not come as usual, fetching from outside meant that she would have to pay for it.
She looked at the Mmesommachi and wondered why she would want to stay here with her and her son.
“Why you help me?” she asked before she could stop herself
Mmesommachi looked hard at her and turned away without answering, Ukwuoma didn’t ask again.
“O girl! Come here!” the young office ordered
He pulled the girl by the arm roughly; the girl groaned in pain and tried to shrug herself away from him. He knew the girl saw him coming and was avoiding making contact with him.
He looked from left to right to confirm if someone was watching them, then he pulled the girl tighter to himself
“Na that woman abi? Na she say make you no dey come see me again?”
The girl said nothing
“I wan see you for my office this night, I no wan remind you watin I go do to you if I no see you…”
“I no go fit come see you, I no wan do that thing again…” the girl was surprised that she could say those words to him
The young officer widened his eyes in surprised, he was infuriated, he tightened his fist and held himself from hitting the girl. Then he gave a ghost of a smile
“In my office, in the night or your brother will pay for your mistake” he left the girl standing there with tears in her eyes.
Hearing her reject him took him by surprise, but it awoken something else in him;
“I like them aggressive and scared at the same time” he gave out a chuckle
Like the night he watched her struggle with those his friends as they mount her one by one, her cry, her tears and her little fists thrown up and down had hardened his manhood.
This would be the night to take their little exploit to another level,
He felt his hardness between his legs,
“She is ready, and so am I” he muttered
His thought diverted to the Woman, anger and worries clouded his joy and fantasy. What would he do with her? He was beginning to hate her terribly and would do anything to get her out of his way
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 9:13pm On Jan 17|
Chikebranny123:thank you so much
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 9:27pm On Jan 17|
OP tanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Chikebranny123(m): 10:43am On Jan 18|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by germaphobe(m): 11:35am On Jan 18|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 12:39pm On Jan 18|
Nne gishi Ike...God bless you. I hope to see this book published..
I hope that wicked officer finds his reward. Amen
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 12:58pm On Jan 18|
I am just blushing deep red over here. thanks to all of you
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 1:54pm On Jan 18|
Thanks for the update Rosie baby
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 3:30pm On Jan 18|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 4:45pm On Jan 18|
queenitee:what na .
Don't worry an episode coming up when I get home and settle down. no vex
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 5:46pm On Jan 18|
More updates please, pray for way out for them
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Fazemood(m): 9:53pm On Jan 18|
This is quite heart wrenching. Nice updates Rosemary
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 11:22pm On Jan 18|
“There is nothing to worry about now Ukwuoma, your boy is doing well, see for yourself” Matron Amina gave Ukwuoma a beam of smile.
Ogugua sat on the floor of the poorly eliminated room eating a plate of rice, with the way he was stuffing the food inside his already filled mouth wile preventing them from falling with his left hand, and chewing the food like he had a little DNA of a goat, one would conclude that it was actually hunger that graduated to fever and rioted in form of convulsion on the boy.
He looked up to his mother and gave a smile with his oil and rice smeared face.
The only light in the room came from a kerosene lamp that hung by the wall closed to a framed picture of the Matron when she must have been younger, with a Man in Army Uniform whom Ukwuoma concluded must be the old woman’s husband.
“Thank you so much Madam, you don’t know how grateful I am for what you have done, but God will bless you” Ukwuoma said
“It’s nothing, we are only tools in Allah’s hands” the Matron responded
“So tell me about you and the boy, where is his father?”
“There is nothing to talk about ma, life stole from both of us, we are all we have left…the two of us” Ukwuoma replied with sadness.
“I can take him back to the tent when he is done with eating…” Ukwuoma said
“Not like this, he needs rest so do you. You especially needs to have a bath and sleep, you look pale, like someone who is about to faint”
“Don’t we all look pale?” Ukwuoma thought. The whole camp was filled with dead men walking; waiting for the time anyone of them would drop. Nobody would cry for another,
Like when the old man that did sit at the stone in front of their tent died, he had no one to cry for him, no one to bury him, Ukwuoma had stood and watched as two young men lifted the body like it was a sack of torn cloths, the old Man had weighed little, judging by the way they lifted his body with easy.
He had no mourners, no singers and nobody followed the corpse to the grave; was there even a grave? She didn’t know. She had gone to the stone where she normally sat with the old man that same night, she had sat at the spot he would always sit, and had looked at nothing like he would always look, with the owl and barking dogs as music to her ears, sending her back to the forest where the old man sat looking at his discarded body. She watched the frail figure cried for himself alone.
She walked into the matron’s bathroom. This would be a thorough bath she would be having after many days. Her reflection from the standing mirror looked back at her, mocking her. She allowed her wrapper slide down from her body to the bathroom floor, what she saw shook her, she could count her ribs and her stomach had sunk so deep that it could hold a bucket of water if she lay down.
Unconsciously her fingers traced her neck up to her cheek, Kunle used to love how chubby her cheeks were, he would plant kisses on them and her neck too. Her eyes has become so big like that of a Lemur; the self acclaimed king in the Animation “Madagascar”
She covered her face with her hands and wept.
As she allowed the water from the shower run down from her head to her feet, she scrubbed herself, trying to purge herself of every memory.
The water mixed with her tears and ran down to the bathroom floor, she loosed herself to wail like she should have the first day her children were killed, she wailed for her dead husband, she wailed for the poor girl that reminded her of herself, and without knowing; she wailed for the old man that did sit alone on a stone gazing at emptiness.
Somewhere in the dark, with wires that held few electric bulb and night flies perching on the bulbs, one of the bulbs flickered for some time and went off, sending the night flies off to another bulb.
A young girl not more than fourteen, tiptoed from the mat where she was laying with her little brother, out of the tent towards a young officer’s office.
Her leg heavy as if revolting against her, she dragged them like a bag of sand while sobbing softly.
She met few people on the way; some were retiring for the night, while some were greedily receiving fresh air in the open space.
A baby was crying somewhere not far from where she was, and the mother was shoving her dry breast on the baby’s mouth.
“Poor baby, why wouldn’t she refuse the breast and cry more? What is remaining in the breast that would bring joy to the baby?” she thought.
She slowed her pace watching the mother and child for a while, she remembered Her mother, when Abraham was born, he was the joy of the family, the lord decided to bless her parents with a baby boy after ten years of giving birth to her.
The vision of the mother and child got blur with her tears; she blinked the tears away and resumed her journey.
Following the road beside the military church, she disappeared towards the lonely road.
Somewhere in the dark, a young Military officer sat in wait for an experimental rat. His was the only office with light still on.
On his table which would double for a bed, lay a whip, a hand cuffs a small container of petroleum jelly and a blindfold.
This would be the third time he was using those; first was on his late wife who died two days later after he had beaten her, tearing her skin with the whip and watching her scream, he was drunken with ecstasy and didn’t realize when she passed out. He didn’t call for help for he was naive, he didn’t think of lying and covering his track.
Second was with a mistress who had called him a psycho and jumped out of his room almost Unclad, running with fear.
This young girl would be perfect, she would beg him, scream and put up a resistance but would not have the strength to run out, neither would she die, she wasn’t pregnant like his wife was.
A noise outside his office caught his attention, he jumped on his feet to receive his visitor, and he opened the door only to see the bright eyes of Baba Hauwa’s black cat
“Puwwahh…” he spat at the cat in disgust, “I hate this Animal”
He strained his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of the girl, he was so sure she would come, all he needed was patience.
He walked behind his office to relief himself, as the urine ran from him manhood “Pata pata pata” with his eyes closed, he whistled an unknown tone.
“Gbaaammm!” he heard the sound of his skull crushed and footsteps running.
His blood dripped from his head down to his shirt from the back, he didn’t have the pleasure of turning to know who hit him or what hit him.
Darkness closed up on him like a thief and he lost consciousness, with his trouser unzipped and his joystick hung out.
Senator Kazeem Abdul-Alim slammed the parcel on the table and smiled confidently.
“It was a success, the message has been passed and the masses are blaming this current government for this unrest, I am sure their vote will come to us this coming election” he said to Imam Ali Husayn ibn.
The cleric didn’t share in his joy; rather he sat with his hand on his jaw, observing the senator.
Senator Kazeem, has always been uncomfortable around the cleric, Imam Ali Husayn ibn knew this and used it very well against the senator.
He knew the senator came to him for this job because he knew he was the only one who could command enough faithful men that would set the state on fire, but what the senator didn’t know was that the cleric was only waiting for an opportunity like that to carry out a holy war against infidels like Allah instructed.
“This is the balance of the money we promised… you can call your men to order now, I think the people has gotten the message we want to pass”
Imam Husayn gave a smirk. He took the large envelop without checking the content.
“Alhamdulillah…you and your people has done well, extend my greetings to them. My boys will receive your message” Imam said
“Tor, no problem at all” the big man struggled to his feet; his bulky body made every movement a tug of war.
Imam Husayn watched his with bemusement as he pushed himself out of the door.
The Man disgust him, all politicians disgust him. They were the ones that would always sabotage his efforts for their political reasons, added with the fact that they compromises with all the Laws Allah gave.
“Men like this will go down with the infidels sooner or later” he muttered as he picked his phone to dial a number
“Contact the arms dealer, I have some money with me”
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Fazemood(m): 12:12am On Jan 19|
Anf so was the beginning of the dreaded boko haram
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