No Victor No vanquished

Nchedo sat under the udala tree with an enamel tray on her thighs. She stared at the brown egusi while her thoughts drifted to other things, like where the next meal would come from?
She stopped briefly and looked up to heaven, while she silently prayed for God to keep their son, who was dragged into the Biafran army.
Her husband clumsily walked out of the hut, with the radio in his hand. He wore a smile, which sheltered grief and untold pain.
She always warned him about shuffling his feet, but it had become a habit, she got used to it anyway.
Her gaze was focused on her husband until he muttered "agha ebigo".

Tobi never stopped thinking about Ebuka, the Biafran soldier who snitched on his brother's and begged him to spare their lives.
The boy who sold out his comrades because he hadn't eaten in days, they bonded over food, and beer later.
He listened to him talk about his widowed mother, and simultaneously, his hopes for the future...
He inadvertently went on about how he got dragged into a war they knew little about.
But later that night, Tobi put a bullet in his heart.

Priye was relieved about the Biafran surrender, the Biafran cause was one that they were not able to resonate with. His people were still among the minority and were regarded as second class citizens in the Biafran Hemisphere.
Better to be a second class citizens in Nigeria!

Cold waves swept throughout the former Biafran colony.
People trooped out en masse, it was the first time in a long while.
There was silence, accompanied by the odd feeling of peace. It was the defeat, the uncertainty, and the terrifying reality that there was no normal to go back to.
Little by little, division crept in.
Divisiveness is the tool for conquer, divide, and rule.

For the struggle and injustice accompanied by £20...
For the soldier whose childhood was stolen from him...
For the woman who watched dozens of men run through her while she screamed for mercy...
For the 3 million lives that we lost...
For hundreds of people who watched as bullets were riddled through their bodies...
For the soldier who was left in a heap of dead soldiers...
For the properties confiscated by the government...
For the horrifying images of deprivation and kwashiorkor...
For the little boy who watched vultures hover around his mother's body...
For the love of peace...

We say OZOEMENA!!!

Amara Ogwuma

©️ 2020.