PROLOGUE

I realize that we are not always as the same all our life time
People change, our believes…our convictions, our faith
Everything we hold dear and have learnt over the years
The cloud gets dark at some point
The storm comes thundering down
And our walls, comforts, faith and almost everything come crashing
We question even our very existence
Life is a baggage

Sometimes we get sandwiches from them as we take the journey
And sometimes, it is filled with stones too heavy to lift
But we will have to move on with it…
People do change, but not because they want to change
But because their baggage toughens or weakens them
Turning them to either monsters or saints…
Or even both, one hidden inside the other.
They say Humans should learn from us, the Ants
But there are so much for me to learn from this Human

I would have love to tell this story personally, but I would rather let the story tell itself
And watch, laugh and cry when the need arises
So how did it start?
Ok here it goes …

EPISODE 1

Jos, Nigeria August 29 2001.


Unguwan Rogo woke up to a violent crisis. Some called it religious crises, but to Ukwuoma, it was horror.

Sounds of guns, dark smokes that covered the sky as men and beast burnt in anguish, religious chants from young men intoxicated by anger and thirst for blood, pandemonium as victims tried to escape, running blindly and colliding with each other.

Those militants, they were everywhere, butchering and hacking their victims into pieces.
Fanatics have decided to rid the state of infidels.

‘‘Mama Okey!!!” She heard Uwa (Mama) Musa calling her while banging on the door

‘‘Mama Okey, open o. Abeg time no dey o, you still dey sleep you wan die?”

She rushed to the door and Uwa Musa let herself in with a force that nearly pushed her down.

‘‘Mama Okey, Wey the sidren (children) dey? oya bring them make Una begin go.”

Ukwuoma was more confused;

‘‘Go where? What is happening?” she asked Uwa Musa who has already gone to the bedroom to gather the children. She came back to the sitting room with Okey and Onyema, who were sleeping before she roughly lifted them from the bed. The seriousness in her face told Ukwuoma that something was not right,

‘‘Mama Okey, u no no wetin dey happen? abeg no dey ask question, oya make we see whether we go still find road cross you and the sidren go army barrack”

In a hurry, Uwa Musa, her neighbor who sells ‘Wake’ alone the road told her of the crisis while shaking her vigorously.

News of crisis rocking some remote villages in plateau state of Nigeria made the news some weeks, with the state government ensuring the people that the government is on top of the situation.

The state government also assured of the security and safety of the State capital, Jos. The sudden eruption of this crisis took the inhabitants of Jos unawares.

‘‘What of my husband? He is not yet back from the clinic” ukwuoma answered.

‘‘Ah Mama Okey! Dokita go find em way o, make we go barrack with this sidren first then u fit call Dokita your husband”

‘‘Okechuku please bring down that box On top of…..”

‘‘Ah! Iyamiri!! abeg no pack anything o, this people fit meet us here o” Uwa musa cut in

Disaster met them immediately, there was a bang at the door with a force that broke the door letting in some group of blood thirsty looking men, chanting religious war song, holding a half dead papa Okey with his limbs amputated.

‘‘Way dokita woman!” one of the men asked. His dark face smeared with blood, with his teeth darkened probably out of tobacco, and some part of the front teeth already gone

‘‘I say way dokita woman!!” he shouted again.

‘‘Daddy” Okey screamed, running towards his daddy,

Like in horror movies,Okechukwu’s head flew out of his body, as one of the men removed the head of the little boy with just one swing of his machete. The head stopped exactly in front of her with her son’s eyes wide open staring at her and his mouth moved as if he was calling her ‘mummy’.

She went cold like a statue with no tears or voice left in her. She was yet to understand what was happening to her, when Onyema, who was now crying and trying to hide behind her was dragged by one of the men, she fought for her son not to be taking like the other, she cried and kicked like a wounded tigress but how could she overpower them, with the horror of seeing her husband in their clutch, like a slaughtered pork samples in a meat store, and the lifeless head and limbs of her son, a deafening slap on her face, gave her a temporal relief, and sent her to total darkness.

Like solders sharing the spoils of war, they took turn to pleasure themselves in her weakness, her womanhood abused beyond mercy

Not knowing how long she had been on the floor in the pool of the blood and body parts of her loved ones, Ukwuoma stared, at first she thought it was all a nightmare, then stabs of pain jolted her back to reality, she sat up and her eyes roamed around what used to be her sitting room, and the pictures of her dead family members came back to her, their body parts scattered like animals on an ancient Egyptian sacrificial alter ready for Ra, the sun god. It all came back to her, the pain, the sorrow and the tears that refused to flow, the thick odor of dry blood filled the room. She sobbed, not like any other sob, but a bitter groan.

See wer stubborness lead u

Following close, wait, make i go bring my popcorn and juice

yewande1234:
See wer stubborness lead u

Sisi i no understand u, are u talking about rosemary or the woman in the story?

germaphobe:
Sisi i no understand u, are u talking about rosemary or the woman in the story?

Me too o

germaphobe:
Sisi i no understand u, are u talking about rosemary or the woman in the story?

d woman in d story

This story is Grimm .
Do I want to continue

God help our country 9ja

We are here o..

LadyRose, fire down ma'am

Chikebranny123:
This story is Grimm .
Do I want to continue

sure you will want to. Just sit tight and watch as the story unfolds, I will not disappoint you

EPISODE 2

In as much as she wanted to mourn her own, she decided to leave the dead behind and move on, carrying only their memories with
her, she staggered out of the room with almost nothing as cloth.

she moving out like a ghost in the street. Bodies lying on top of each other, headless, amputated, hacked,lost children, crying and calling “mother”, women screaming the names of their children and husbands.

That was how she met him, Oguguo (as she later named him) he was standing beside the body of a dead woman crying, with no cloth on and mucus running down his nose.

Buried in her own grief, she took no notice of him at first, she kept walking, but as she walked, she could hear the cry of a child trailing her, yet she
kept walking without looking back, following the movement of others towards a destination she knew not.

“Madam, carry this pikin (babe) for hand, you wan make him die,” a woman shouted at her amidst the chaos.

She turned and looked at him, for the first time she actually saw him, his big owl like eyes, piercing her heart, going beyond it to plead for a chance to live.

She was not sure if it was pity for the boy or consolation to her sorrowful soul, she yanked him off the ground and carried him with her, hurried her
feet, with the air so thick with smoke and sting of burning flesh, she ran blindly, praying that God would at least spare her life and lead her to where she could at be safe before thinking of the next thing to do.

***
3rd Armoured Division Barracks, Bassa.

They were greeted with the sight of overcrowded camp filled with people seeking refuge in the barrack.

Getting a good spot to settle with Ogugua wasn’t easy, it seems like the number people seeking refuge in the barrack was more than the available space.

As she walked from corner to corner with Ogugua now sleeping in her hands, she was almost stepping
on others who were lying face down like dead bodies out of hunger, some were chatting noisily about the violence going on, some still mourn the loss of their loved ones while others were looking at nothing in particular, one could hear the wailing of hungry children and the shout of frustrated mothers.

She looked around the dirty interior of the camp in search of a space, when she finally found one she made a quick move to it before another person takes it.

The next challenge would be where to get a mat to lay the sleeping little boy,

‘‘nwanne i nacho ebe iga enweta ute?” (Are u looking for where
to get mat?) Her Neighbor, an Igbo woman with her two daughters who were sleeping and a husband who was arguing loudly with another man, asked her.

‘‘eehm, yes ma” she answered

‘‘okey, I know u need a mat for yourself and your son” her neighbor commented

‘‘ yes, I was about to ask you where you got yours from”

‘‘ just get to that corner at the beginning of the camp, meet the officers in charge and tell them you just arrived”

‘‘ok, thank you so much, please help me secure this space while I get the mat” she answered before leaving.

The queue was long at the officers offices, people were already losing their patience in the hot sun and once in a while fight would erupt from one point or another as people try to maneuver another in other to be in the front roll.

She took her head gear off, tied the edges around her neck and allowed it to flow down her back in other to cover Ogugua who was still sleeping, a torn
head gear and wrapper she got from a woman who could not bear seeing her tattered cloth, and decided to share her little cloths with her, “to say someone still look out for another amidst such chaos”,

When it finally got to her turn after a long
wait, she registered her name and was waiting for the officer to hand the mat over to her. the officer gave her a sheepish smile, exposing a set of teeth darkened with tobacco and kola nut;

‘‘fine woman, oyibo pepe (fair like an English woman), see as your skin dey yellow, dey shine like fresh paw-paw”

Other officers were drawn to her by that comment, laughing and looking lustfully at her, it was not difficult to see her once beautiful
face and yellow skin even though life has decided to flip an ugly side on her

‘‘Please can you give me the mat now, my boy needs to rest” she replied in disgust, wondering within her how easily she came to accept the boy on her back as “His boy”
‘‘Hei! see as you dey speak like oyibo (you speak like the whites), come make I tell you, if you need anything for this place ehe, meet me, i go give you” still smiling sheepishly

‘‘the mat sir” she requested pretending not to notice his
flirtation.

She finally settled Ogugua on the mat to continue his sleep and decided to go and get the pitiable food she saw some others eating.

It was already dusk before it could get to her turn to
get the food, it was The same officer who she met earlier, he looked at her, savoring her body while licking his lips

‘‘madam abeg wait for me inside make i come give you the one way dey inside”

‘‘Ah! oga officer, my baby fit don wake now, abeg give me the one way dey here make I go give am” Ukwuoma replied, deciding to speak in pidgin English to avoid drawing attention to herself

‘‘Madam I said you should wait ” he shouted

After waiting for a while, the officer came in and took her inside the office

‘‘Ehe! Madam, I say make u wait make I give you your own food and provision special” the officer said as he walks close to her trying to hold her in a romantic embrace.

‘‘She wiggled herself away from his embrace.

‘‘You be pikin? You suppose know watin I want now or you no want the food again? ” asked the officer who tried to forcefully embrace her

‘‘Get off me you idiot” she shouted, pushing him off

‘‘Look make I tell you, for here I dey in charge o, no be only food I go give you but I go give you plenty milk for your son and new wrapper so you fit change this dirty one”

‘‘Oga, na only food I need, I no need any other thing. And no near me or I go shout make everybody hear and see waiting you dey do” she threatened

‘‘See this woman o, i wan help you and you dey do shakara, common comot for here, you no dey serious o, go make you and your pikin die of hunger, i go push you o”

‘‘What of the food oga, please no do this to me, for my son’s sake abeg help me, just a little for my boy please…”

‘‘Common shut up your mouth, which food, get out of here, when you dey serious you come” he pushed her out.

her head was light, with tears blinding her sight she walked back to the camp only to see the mat empty and Oguguo missing.

‘‘Where could he be?” she thought, the few hours that passed has brought them close so quickly, because to her he became a consolation, yet she saw her past, and her future in him.

She asked her neighbor who said she was sleeping and didn’t know when he left.

‘‘Oguguo ! O..gu..guo!!!” she called out, shouting his name aloud, her eyes roaming to and fro in search of him.

She spotted him at the far end of the camp, standing beside a family who were eating without noticing him.

He was trying to grab some yam from their plate while a woman, who must be the mother, shove him off like a chick being shooed from grains, and each time she did that Oguguo cries.

Ukwuoma watched the scene like a movie, her son was being treated as a common beggar and she blew the only chance she could have provided food for him,
she had watched and her family was snatched away from her, so helpless she was and death stole them away, and could not watch this one, the reminder of the sons she once had, taken byhunger, her tears was uncontrollable as she ran to pick him up, away from there.

‘‘Ogugua my son, I will not fold my arms and watch hunger take you away like the others” she came back to her mat pleaded with her Neighbor to look out for him and left.

She ran as if something was after her, crying aloud and her breast flapping side by side with the force of her speed.

She knocked at the door of the office, the officer opened the door as if he was waiting for her, he smiled broadly and ushered her inside the little office, with no much words to say, she removed what was remaining of her cloth and allowed it to fall on the flour.

She eased herself on the floor and closed her
eyes.

As he had his way, she refused to feel any physical pain, the only pain she could feel was the pain in her heart. at that moment all she could remember was that fateful day when she lost everything, her family killed before her, as he thrust deep in her, tears ran down her cheek,

She opened her eyes and turn her face at the other side of the office, all she could see was the hungry face of her the boy Ogugua.

Exactly what alot of people pass through

Rosy darling thanks for the update

More grace and wisdom

Captivating from the start. Following closely. Keep it up madam.

What a wonderful piece, thanks for the update

yewande1234:
See wer stubborness lead u

You won't understand. Unless you were there. I can't forget that experience. Jos in 2001 sept 1 was a horror. Pls don't blame her.

It was on sept 1st a bright sunny day it was at around 1pm, we were outside our house in busa buji str Jos north, that we started noticing the sudden darkness of the sky, we thought it was rain but instead we noticed it was dark smoke covering the sky. The breeze was gentle but the air carried along fear and panic. People were still wondering what was the cause, next we heard were gunshots reverberating everywhere. I was younger 11yrs then.
Everyone was shouting "Riot riot". I thought it was a joke. Even though I knew meant becus I heard of kaduna crisis in 1999-2000, I just didn't expect it in Jos, becuz Jos was a home of peace and quiet. Everyone who knows Jos will attest to this fact.

It started next was stories of christains esp Ibos being killed around Angwan Rogo and Nasarawa. They said it was Sharia war. I remember how my heartbeat raced that day. The way the Hausas in my area ran for their lives into Katako and corner shagari. It was the wake of many murders.

I honestly feel this story Rose. hmmm

We ran for safety a week later to Rukuba Rd, At thesame period when the twin tower in America collapsed due to Bin Laden's terrorist attack on september 11. That day it the sky cried like it never did before. Rainfall was terrible, at thesame time, people were killing each other that same day. Both Christains and Muslims lost both lives and properties in large numbers.
It was terrible, My Dad had to drive us down to Octopus Barrack, Bassa, commonly known as Rukuba Barracks. That was how we got refuge and a place to rest our tired bodies. The bed were rationed like Rosemary33 mentioned. The mats and foams were for the children, adults however had to handle their own matter anyway they could.

The foods were rationed too. Some days wentby with just a ration of Eba and okra soup a day. Others were better a little. As a child I must confess it was easy b'cus I had other children to play along with. But the adults like my father had to always go back into town to check on things like his shop and our house.

Nawa o... See as story dey like movie for Cinema

What a terrible experience [quote author=Fazemood post=71751869]We ran for safety a week later to Rukuba Rd, At thesame period when the twin tower in America collapsed due to Bin Laden's terrorist attack on september 11. That day it the sky cried like it never did before. Rainfall was terrible, at thesame time, people were killing each other that same day. Both Christains and Muslims lost both lives and properties in large numbers.
It was terrible, My Dad had to drive us down to Octopus Barrack, Bassa, commonly known as Rukuba Barracks. That was how we got refuge and a place to rest our tired bodies. The bed were rationed like Rosemary33 mentioned. The mats and foams were for the children, adults however had to handle their own matter anyway they could.

The foods were rationed too. Some days wentby with just a ration of Eba and okra soup a day. Others were better a little. As a child I must confess it was easy b'cus I had other children to play along with. But the adults like my father had to always go back into town to check on things like his shop and our house.[/quotel] Wow It's painful really. What a terrible experience

Episode 3

With the boy now soundly sleeping on the mat, she was left alone curling at the edge of the mat and her legs folded in front of her.

Her body felt so strange, as if it belong to another, sleep was a punishment for every moment sleep tried to steal her away, the horrible pictures of her dead children and husband came calling.

She allowed her eyes to roam around the tent, which is
over populated with people, and the air, too stuffy and hot.

The snores of sleeping men, producing some cacophonous, frog like rhythm filled her ears, and she wonders how people could be so far from what they once called home and easily adapt to the sudden pitiable change that fate suddenly throws at them.

‘‘kpam!! ” her neighbor slapped her left arm trying to kill a mosquito that was feasting on her blood.

"what ‘s the use” Ukwuoma said to herself,

mosquitoes sang choruses in her ears as if to tell her something, where will she start from in shoving them off, and to think that these little insects are so bold, daring her for a fight

‘‘mtcheeeewwwww” she hissed.

She could hear the crying of a baby from the other end of the tent and the angry scold of the mother,

‘‘Surely ugly situations like this has a way of robbing people of love and care, leaving them with anger, resentment and frustration”. She thought

She looked at her son Ogugua again, now covered with sweats that had already soaked the cloths he was putting on, one of the cloths giving to him by an organization of Muslim women in the barrack.

She removed his cloth and wiped the sweat streaming down his body like water.

‘‘What was his life before this unrest? Was he living like a prince or were they managing life? Who was his father? Was his father prominent and well to do? ” she couldn’t tell,

‘‘Religion has succeeded in striping us of all we had and hold dear and
has pushed us in the cold, naked and half dead, wondering like dead men with their eyes sunk inside their heads filled with emptiness like zombies”. It doesn’t matter now who he was
before, what matter is that he is now her son.

Even though he may not make up for the family she lost, but she was going to love him and nurture him as if he is a thousand sons.

Tomorrow, they would be leaving this place, or so she thought.

One of the women from the organization had told her in confidence that a lorry would be arriving with supplies and if she is lucky, she could follow the lorry back to Lagos.

She knew she didn’t need a supply, what she needed was to move on, and she could do anything to
achieve that, even if it meant squeezing herself and this boy inside a sack at the back of the lorry.

She looked around the tent, to be sure nobody was watching, she untied the end of her wrapper and looked at the money the good woman gave her.

Thoughts of her once beautiful life kept flashing through her mind. The Man she loved as a husband for nine years,

The Children that consumed her life and filled her days with laughter.

“If only Kunle had listened to her, if only he had
stayed home instead of going back to the hospital after that phone call, he would have been alive now, they would have all been
alive” she thought.

kunle would have known that death was
coming, like in 1998, when they all escaped death on their way coming back from church, he would have gotten them all out before the blood sucking vampires came down on them

Not wanting to remember the ill and the cruelty life has treated her with, she was determined to look ahead, calling every abuse and emotional turmoil she has as a sacrifices for the only thing she now has, the only child left for her now to call son.

She looked once again at him she knew that her life now centers on him, fate has brought him to her and she won’t let go.

‘‘We leave at the wake of dawn my child, away from this place that has brought sorrow to us, there the memory of the past will be erased from you and you will only see me as the only mother you know. I will see my children in you and will give you the
best i can get.”

The boy made a sound as if in agreement while
she patted him softly with her right hand, wiping a drop of tear with the other.

Her gaze fall upon an Ant balancing a load on its head, the weight so heavy, yet the ant carries it tactfully, moving without stumbling, as she watched the ant keenly, it changes to a vision of herself, walking on a lonely forest, carrying a
basket filled with dead bodies, blood sipping out from the basket openings, down to her body, Vultures formed dark clouds on the dark sky above her, she heard the frightful hooting of a night Owl.

Her feet were sore, the neck stiff yet she saw
herself drifting deeper and deeper in the forest. Her vision shifted from the horror to reality, the Ant was no longer at the place she spotted it, she was panting and was covered with sweat

Thanks for the update

Thanks for updating

This is going to be terrific! Space booked..

Very lovely story

Nice wan.


Following

Nice one dear

Well done OP

Well done Rosemary.

Following.

Rosie bby wetin dey happen nao....abeg try update.

update plssss

Pls babe update na abeg[i][/i]