wucky:
Wow!!! So following this

You are so welcome...

Despirado121:
Beautiful intro

Thank you bro.

MAY, 2004 (2)

The year was 2001 and we were in primary school. I, my sister and my elder brother who schooled in De-Larfel, a secondary school, all in Shagari Quarters. I remember coming to school that morning with my sister and elder brother who branched and went to his own school. After the morning assembly, we all went to our classes and teaching for the day started.

I don't know what drew me out of the class that morning. Maybe it was to ease myself or play some pranks with my friends that I came outside. After maneuvering the turn that led me to the building where the restroom of the school lied, I came upon my mother and the headmaster, Mr. Phillip. My mother comes to the school once in a blue moon. Sometimes to pay our fees, other times to attend to one thing or another. I and my sister always bragged that not even one student had seen our dad. I was happy to see Mama but I dared not show it else the headmaster will have my head. I checked myself well to see that my shirt was well tucked into my shorts. And my shoe lace was not dangling.

As I walked close to them, I overheard Mr. Phillip saying to my mother:

"Sister Hassan, go back home. God is in control. He will protect the children."

Mother shook her head vigorously. "God is in control that's why I am here to pick my children. I advice you to allow other children go so that they can reunite with their families. I saw those 'yandabba with huge knives, cutlasses, cudgels, giant sickles and go-to-hells. They should be here anytime soon."

"Hmmm, Sister Hassan", Mr. Phillip called my mother, "are you sure you are not adding your stories just to allow me let your children go?"

"You can say whatever you like. Just give my kids to me."

Mother was adamant. Mr. Phillip stood thinking for a while with his hand scratching his chin. He wanted to say something when the gate burst open and a fat woman sauntered into the school compound. This one wasn't smiling and was not doing sister sister like my mother. Her eyes were red and her voice near hysterical.

"Mr. Phillip, give me my children let me go. These Hausa people have started again. They are burning tires and shops at Zoo Road."

Nobody noticed me. I was just inconsequential. Before Mr. Phillip could react to that one too, a man barged inside. The headmaster needed no more again to be convinced that the situation was a critical one. Funny thing is, he turned to me without looking around. That means he had noticed my presence a long time ago.

"You, go to primary five and tell them to ring the bell."

It was still morning and we had just left the assembly a while back. Now imagine ringing the bell at that period. The first thing that comes to the mind of a child is break period and play. So when the sound of the bell tore through the school, the scream that followed was a joyful one. As children poured out of their classrooms, they saw the headmaster and the assistant headmaster standing. Teachers that followed the children just to know what's wrong saw the duo and joined them on the raised platform meant for teachers while the assistant class teachers stayed at the rear to control the children and make them form an orderly line.

"Good morning children..."

Mr. Phillip began a speech he did not finish. The gate swung open and a woman screamed.

"Give me my children. Do you them to die? The 'yandabba are already headed in this direction."

That was when all hell broke lose. My mother was standing with us on the line already so she just grabbed us and dragged us through the gate before the pandemonium of people trying to pass through the gate at once. Children were crying looking for their parents. Parents who came to pick their wards and saw the catasylmic mumbo jumbo that was happening burst out into tears. When we got outside the gate, there, outside in his slightly pink uniform was my brother. Mother had gone to pick him from his school first before making her way to ours.

"Oya, kume gwonyu ola me owo. Kanyi ka ko lo."
*Alright, you all should hold hands together, hurry up and let's get going.*

And thus the journey began. We started walking and running home. But home was far for the way was still long. At the end or beginning of the street, depending on which way you used to enter 11th Street, Shagari Quarters, lied a giant football field. We cross the field daily on our way home, follow through Sabon Madille down to Sheka market before bursting out in Tudun Maliki.

After crossing the field, still holding unto ourselves, we faced the Sabon Madille road. But down the street were people coming chanting war songs or more like reciting:

"La ihla ah ihla la!"

While some shouted:

"Allahu Akbar!"

We screeched to a halt. Mama was confused as to where to go. But I had an idea. In front of us was my classmate house, Abbas. I looked at my mother.

"Mama, see my friend for school house here. Make we go there."

Truly, Abbas, still in his school uniform stood outside with his mother and some other women. The women were talking excitedly on top of their voices. My mother dragged us and approached them.

"Dan Allah, gasu nan zuwa. Ku 'boye ni da 'yayyar ta."
*I beg you in the name of God, hide me and my kids. The bad guys are coming.*

I had smiled and waved at Abbas but the look he gave me was cold. Mother while making that speech was advancing at the same time. The other women on hearing the news ran into the house while one stood and barred mama from getting in.

"Ai ni bazan bar kafirai su shigo mini gida ba."
*I'm not going to allow infidels into my house.*

With that she bolted the door, right there on our faces. Mother knocked hard on the door but it wasn't opened. One way home was blocked already by the advancing 'yandabba. Remaining the other, which is through 4th Street express road. Mother had initially said we wouldn't follow there as it was dangerous.

"Haba Hajiya. Ki yi musu afua. Koma ba dan ita ba, ki duba jinjjirai da suka hannun ta. Ki tausayya mata ki bar su su shigo. Nan da mintina talatin, zasu wuce gida."
*Please Hajiya, consider them. Even if it is not for the woman, think about the kids she is holding. Have pity on her and allow them enter. In thirty minutes time, they should be on their way.*

A voice pleaded passionately on our behalf. Soon the gate unlatched and the woman who had earlier locked the gate beckoned on us to come. My mother declined.

"Ni bazan shiga ba ki zo ki tura ni waje in suka zo."
*I will not enter for you to later push me outside when they come.*

Then she added.

"Oya hold your hands. We will follow the road and by God's grace we will get to the house with no one stopping us on the way."

We headed home using the road which was totally lonely. No bikes, no cars, no humans. We got home in one piece. The gate to the house was already locked. When it was opened, we realized that everybody had returned home. Even my father. He had gone to pick my elder brothers from their schools. My uncles too had left their places too with some neighbours who couldn't stay in their own houses. Everyone reunited. Then we waited patiently. We waited to see if we would be attacked.


To be continued...

#JoeyReminisces

MAY, 2004 (A TRUE LIFE STORY)

This is a short story that I will wrap up soonest. Your comments and views are welcome.

***********************
All my life I've been hearing of stories of riots that had happened in the country. A young lad was I that had inspiration to become a lawyer then or at most a banker. I was good with my pen at that age and also with my balance sheets. I could also argue for Africa but never was I given a chance to participate in debates. The reason was I had speech defect. It wasn't exactly a disease. I just spoke too fast that it took careful listening to understand whatever it was that I was saying.

Born in the State of Kano in the early '90s, I grew up with the reality of having to evade the many almajiris that called for our blood. They used this term on us which I had thought to mean a Christian before. "Ar'naye". If you asked me then in Hausa,

"Kai daga wanne addini ne?"
*You are of what religion?*

In my innocence I'd answer:

"Ni ar'na ne."

I never knew my answer meant, "I am an infidel." The almajiris were always chasing us or breaking our heads with rocks so we virtually stayed inside our compound in Tudun Maliki, Zoo Road, Kano. One dared not look for trouble and your parents would be insulted indiscriminately without you having the power to react. Your reaction meant automatic wound on your head. I cannot count the number of times my head was stoned. I only got stitched once though. My head was strong.

In the night, we would crowd ourselves on the staircase of our neighbors and listen to moonlight stories. Those stories were always interesting. We would be told about the tortoise and his many adventures, about the rabbit and it's quick mouth and feet, the spider that had infallible wisdom and finally about the good and the bad family. The good always prevailed and the tortoise always entered into trouble. We only dispersed to our various houses at the shout of "NEPA!". By then we would watch the television till we fell asleep. The following day was always the same routine for us kids. The holidays were promising and fun. Even though we seldom travelled, we always had stories. Life was fun for the kids and manageable for the adults.

General Abdulsalam Abubakar had handed power back to the civilians in the person of Chief Olusegun Obasanjo. The 9/11 terrorists attacks on the World Trade Center held sway. Posters of the carnage was on every corner of the streets and people talked about it. Osama Bin Laden was the name on the lips of everyone then. People wondered what George Bush's counter action would be. He did not disappoint. He sent the US Army in to smoke Bin Laden out.

Then came the talks of Sharia law. A law that proposed cutting of hands in the case of stealing and women covering themselves with big hijab. Back then, a Hausa woman covered herself with "mayyafi". It is a veil that they used to cover their heads and throw across their shoulders. When the call for Sharia law gained momentum, hijab became a norm. Big ones for that matter. Hisbah was formed and 'yan Korso disappeared from Kano. These are the traditional Hausa dancers. You will find them at Gidan Zoo doing their thing. They performed daredevilry stunts and we as kids copied them. They were labeled "karuwai", prostitutes, arrested, while the others went into hiding.

As kids in Primary school, we attended Lipson Quality Nursery and Primary School. A long distance from home. It was there I saw the first display of violence but I did not understand because I was still a little child with a carefree mind. But even as a child, I witnessed tribalism firsthand. Funny enough, I knew it would take grace for us not to get killed that day.

To be continued....
#JoeyWrites