It took me a long time of reflections to put this piece together. First, let me thank my husband for the emotional support, the counseling and for his belief in the creator of heaven and earth which we call God or Allah.

The journey began in Auchi. We had travelled to Akure on a Monday, stayed with my husband’s relations in the outskirt of this ancient town. In the evening of Monday, we visited the palace for dinner, my husband being a close friend to son of the King.

On Tuesday, we left for Ibadan, via the Akure-Ilesa road. Our plan was that after attending the wedding in Auchi, we would travel with (my husband) to Lagos, stay for few weeks before returning abroad where I had lived with my husband and children for more than a decade. We were in the car of a close family friend, an accountant who gave his time and energy for our comfort.

We were five in the car, myself, my husband, our daughter, a lady who is my husband’s niece who had joined us in Akure with the hope of traveling with us to Lagos.

The driver accountant maintained a normal speed. He drove professionally. That gave me a lot of comfort and I felt I could find time to sleep a bit. My daughter was next to me, just 9. She was coming to Nigeria with me for the second time.

Shortly after the Ijare junction, the driver felt the wagon’s tires ruptured and decided to pack the car with the hope of changing the tires.

It was like a film. In a jiffy, motley crowd of armed men in military uniform came out of the bush. They fired at the boot of the car. Ahead of us, five of them came out of the bush, another two came from the rear. My daughter screamed: “Mummy, daddy, what’s going on”. There was no time to say a word. They marched us through into the bush, firing into the sky. They hit me on my chest, hit my daughter on her head, blood oozed. At this time, it was better to kill me. I shouted at one of the armed men. His response was hell. He went straight for my private part, tore my dress with his gun. The others ripped my dresses. I was left with my undies. My husband and my daughter started crying. Two of them dug their teeth into my breasts.

While attending a secondary school in Adamawa, I had lived with some Fulani, so I understand a few Fulani words. I started pleading, at least for my daughter. To my shock, at gun point, they removed the dress of my little girl, one of them carried her on his head as my baby struggled, shouting “Daddy, mummy, what’s going on. Help me.”

I could not help myself. We were marched for 9 hours. I was half naked. My daughter was totally naked. A felt her tears was like a stream of blood
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I will never click that useless link. If you can't post it here then read and die alone. LMAO mumu blogger at it again

who is fooling who here? y not post d complete story here?

Mumu and Iberiberism can never finish in this forum

donziggyman:
I will never click that useless link. If you can't post it here then read and die alone. LMAO mumu blogger at it again

The major problem you have is lack of Common Sense

Who force you to click d link?

udoakwa:
who is fooling who here? y not post d complete story here?

Say No to narrow escape

benzems:


The major problem you have is lack of Common Sense

Who force you to click d link?

See painment

donziggyman:
See painment

Uchu

benzems:

Uchu

gba gi

donziggyman:
gba gi

Ewu Congo

benzems:


Ewu Congo

ezi bida. Ewu Gambia

donziggyman:
ezi bida. Ewu Gambia

Okogboro Okoko