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    AvatarValentine
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    Chronicles of a time traveller

    Ejike was asleep when a group of the Biafran soldiers came to take his
    father very early in the morning.

    The soldiers went round the village, recruiting young men who fought in the
    Biafra war.

    Ejike woke up when the noise disturbed him.

    “Papa, ogini mere? (Papa what happened?)” He had asked drowsily.

    “enwegi ihe mere (nothing happened). Just go back to sleep” his father had
    replied swiftly.

    “But they are taking you away” the little boy cried.

    “You have to be a man. Take care of your mother. I’m going to fight for our
    freedom” he patted his shoulder and left.

    The little boy let out a loud wail, his father had been taken. His friend
    “Uzokwe” had told him the previous day that every young man in the village
    must fight, either willingly or forcefully.
    He had doubted him, saying his (Ejike) father wouldn’t be taken to the
    battlefield.

    Ejike blinked his eyes when the realization dawned on him, his father had
    been taken. He was going to fight.

    He joined his mother in her hut whilst they prayed to Chukwu Okike abiama
    for the safety of the young men who were at the warfront.

    “Nna gi ga alota na Udo (Your father will come back in peace). Stop crying”
    his mother had told him when the tears seemed endless.

    He only nodded his head in affirmative but didn’t make an attempt to stop
    the tears that flowed freely.

    It was midday. The sun had risen up in the sky when Ejike and his mother
    heard a languid war cry from afar.

    They rushed out of the hut, worry written on their faces.

    “Papa is back” Ejike said excitedly as he saw his father galloping like a
    horse towards their hut.

    “Nnanyi, you are back” Orjiugo said, immediately her husband got nearer to
    the hut.

    “We have to leave this place immediately. We were out numbered and they
    have more trained soldiers than we do. They are coming to raze down every
    single hut they find. The rest of the villagers will meet at the “Ukpaka
    Forest”. He said out of breath.
    Orjiugo ran into the hut and few minutes later, she ran out with a few
    wrappers. They left the hut and ran into the bush.

    The journey to the “Ukpaka forest” took them a little time and by the time
    they got there, a lot of the villagers were there, engulfed by fear.

    “I don’t think they can follow us to this place” an old man spoke up.

    “Chukwu Okike abiama will not let that happen” a woman said. Her eyes were
    swollen and reddish, She had been crying. Her husband couldn’t make it out
    of the battlefield alive.

    “I saw people die. I saw some of our young men, they died whilst fighting
    for freedom” Ejike’s father muttered dejectedly.

    “When will this war end?” Ejike tugged at his father’s wrapper.

    “Very soon, my boy.” He replied with a sigh.

    They left the forest weeks after, when the war died down. They fed on raw
    cassava and roasted bush meat while they were in the forest.

    They would gather sticks and light a fire with two stones by cracking them
    together and then they would roast whatever rodent they caught.

    Ejike never forgot the sight they met when they had gotten back to the
    village. Dead bodies littered everywhere.

    Pa Ejike woke up with a start. He was laying down on a bed, in a well
    furnished room.

    It took him some time before he remembered that he was in his daughter’s
    house. His daughter had taken him to the city when he had fallen ill.

    His grandson entered the room, fuming, raging and threatening to bring down
    fire and brimstone.

    “Ikenna ogini? (Ikenna what is it?)” Ejike asked.

    “Grandpa, don’t mind those herdsmen. They want their cows to have a special
    place in the East but we won’t let them. If they want war, we will give it
    to them” the young man explained erratically.

    Ejike only shook his head in pity.
    If only they knew how disastrous and destructive a war could be, they
    wouldn’t brew one. If only they knew how many lives were lost during the
    Biafra war years ago, they wouldn’t pray for one. If only they knew, they
    would find another means to settle their disputes. If and only if they knew.

    The Chronicles of a Time Traveller.

    A FICTION Flash
    © Jennifer Godwin
    2021.

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    #1432143 Reply
    Lifēøf Shy GúyLifēøf Shy Gúy
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    Roger on bro

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    #1432153 Reply
    @esthy@esthy
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    War is a thing that we no the starting and no one no the ending

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    #1432159 Reply
    daniel wiredaniel wire
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    Roger on

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