MAY 2004 (3)
Here, we waited patiently. Tension was everywhere. Kids did not involve themselves in that game. We were busy playing with ourselves or crowding around the adults to hear their stories. They told stories of all the riots they had witnessed. Others told stories of the Civil War. Reinhard Bonkhe's story took the lead. How he had placed a curse on the State of Kano and how the curse is manifesting. It was crazy. The reason behind the curse they had said was because of the fact that he was chased from Kano with only a shoe on his leg. Strange story I tell you.
It was also during that time frame that the "men" in the house started talking about defending themselves and not folding arms and allowing themselves to be slaughtered like cattle.
"See, for Kaduna, we no deh allow them. Na arrow for arrow, bullet for bullet and knife for knife. If them do anyhow, na so we dey follow them with fire."
Baba Sarah said that morning. Yes, it was still morning because of the whole unrest.
"Na only mouth them get. If them see gun self, them no go fit operate am."
Someone chipped in drawing approval from others. I believed that talk too. Maybe because I had not experienced what shooting was like or did not see the distant future and the emergence of Boko Haram. That theory has long been proven wrong. Train a dog well and it will definitely shoot a gun for you.
"Make we prepare. Once them come, the women and the children go enter bush (there is this uncompleted building that was overgrown with bushes that laid to the left of the compound. Another was by the right.) while the rest of us go face them man for man."
Boy was I proud to be in that gathering. I saw courage speaking but looking back now, I realized that it was being done for the sake of the women and children. To give them a false feeling of safety. Let me digress a little to the future, 20th January, 2012 to be precise. When the attacks on virtually every police barracks in the city of Kano was going on, we stayed in the house and contemplated.
It was that moment when the gunshots sounded like it was getting closer that my brother's friend suggested we build bombs of our own. We had petrol, bottles and pieces of rags. You got it, monotov cocktail. According to him, we shouldn't go down without a fight. And we built it. Well, it gave us a false sense of safety but we knew we stood no chance if the AK47s come blazing.
My father was the first to go into the house. He returned with six machetes. New ones. I know he had one, where the remaining five materialized from still remains a mystery. Then Baba Sarah went into his own room and returned with a sword. An actual sword that is sheathed. Baba Ify brought his own and very soon everyone in the compound was crawling out with his own weapon. As kids we were elated. I in particular was proud of my dad. He had set the pace. Come what may, if the attackers should gain access into the compound, I will pick my own weapon since the number of weapons was more than the number of the actual users.
Moments later we started hearing chants. God, the silence that crept into every one of the adults is better imagined.
"Shey telephone dey this compound. Make we call police."
Brilliant idea from my father. Three of the adults, a woman and two men plus my father rushed into the room that had a land-line. Cellular phone (not handset as it is presently called) was not in vogue then. I had seen Hajiya making use of it. Big wireless stuff. I managed to follow them into the flat without drawing attention. Whilst inside, my father dialed the number of the police and was speaking calmly. Others stood by the window and was peeking outside. Alhaji Bako, an Alhaji and a neighbour opposite the compound sat in front of his house with a friend.
"Thank God say Alhaji Bako dey there. Nothing go happen. Him no go allow them enter the compound."
Someone seemed to be saying. It was the same moment that the ferocious chanting got so close. Father that was all gentlemanly on the phone changed his voice.
"You mean there is no petrol? See, come with your men, I will pay for the fueling. Come with everything, we are under attack!"
If the policeman at the other end had heard and acted, I know not to this day. What I remember is sighting the 'yandabba for the first time in my entire life. They were much and their weapons was mad, like really mad. Their voices sounded like the roars of the lions that were caged in the zoo a little distance from the house. My mouth was agape as they passed while my father kept trying to convince the police.
The bad guys passed and the house was not attacked, all thanks to God and maybe, Alhaji Bako.
That night my father packed us all in the car and straight to Bompai barracks we went. We only heard stories and shared stories on our return the following morning.
The story did not end there. And in case you are wondering, it was a spill over of the Sharia riots in Kaduna. Three years later, 2004, another carnage took place, the starting point being Jos, Plateau State. This time we were in a different location and yes, we were in school too.
To be continued...
