"Haske ya sa ku! Mahaifin ku a can!" The militants yells as they shoot randomly in my village, they kill everyone at sight, both the young and the old, it was chaotic and we ran. We did not just run, we were colliding among each other, both the young and old, the fatty and skinny, we ran! We fall! We collide. As we approach the gate of St Peter's Catholic Church, running inside the church with a sigh of relief.

The militants got to our village very early, few of us that survived the massacre ran to the church for refuse since the war is tribal and not religious. We found the church to be our only Savior until the arrival of the military.

The number of people trooping into the church with pool of blood keep increasing, we never thought this crisis will get to this part of the country, like a butchers shop, the church was full of blood stains and splash. As we find where to sit down and pray to our God for help even though we know death is in the neighborhood.

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