The sound of the school bell broke the tranquility that haunted the Hall's atmosphere. It was time for students to take a break. I had planned to spend time at the chapel by break period but suddenly I had an impromptu urge that reminded me of my gassing with Nneka in the morning. I had been pondering on the possible outcomes of the events that were rumured across the city concerning the killings of Christians in Kaduna. " my aunt called my mum this morning. she sounded so scared and terrified" were her words in the early hours of Thursday 24th February, 2000. The stern look on her face revealed her disapproval for the uprising in the Northern part of the country but here she was with no meaningful impacts to save her aunt whom she perceived was in great danger. "my aunt reported that they took refuge at a local cold room where she use to patronize. Her husband was trapped in between the rioting youths who had no sympathy to spare the life of anyone protesting the adoption of sharia law in Kaduna." she informed me that morning. On her way to school that morning she had seen; several bodies of burnt corpses at different junctions, rioting youths chanting lines that indicated war, the destruction of shops and properties perceived to be owned by the "efulefus" and the tensed atmosphere in ogborhill that made her wonder the amount of terror in the North that must have propelled this barbaric vengeance and mehem. The Kaduna governor had promised an immediate arrest of the situation but the good for nothing men in black could not quell the uprising. Looking across the lawns opposite her class, I could feel the thrubbing below her skirt as she walked aimlessly looking befuddled. She had gone to her friends for sympathy. "The truth be told, who almalgamates a people with deep hatred for each other at a period of world war?" she manages to fine tune her voice to conceal the thantophobic look on her face. Walking towards them, I could see that she was not alone in this peaceful rebellion against these vile religious fanatics whom she opined should have a different nationality. "Nne, you look so depressed" I said while reaching out for a pack of Jamile yoghourt that I had bought from the canteen. "Here, I am sure it will help to calm your nerves" I added. The colonel was yet to make an official statement but the majority of Igbos in diaspora rekindled their regular bizzare verbal quest for indigenization. I for once have never seen the possibility of a break away nation from the 1914 "atomic error" which has haunted our collective survival but that believe was begining to wider as I was looking face to face at an impending war that could transcend generations yet to be born. I felt pity for the young ones who were going to inherit this generational conflict and disease nursed by ethnic egos and fight for supremacy. This was the begining of the modern era of fear for Islamization of the county after the last unsuccessful attempt by Late Gen. Sani Abacha. This was the dilemma of the African jews, who at different times took the major blow from the vents of their acclaimed Northern kinsmen. "we were never one, the amalgamation was only the begining of a feud that was going to leave wounds and sores." she said. After the civil war which was decorated and declared no victor no vanguish, the "African Jews" were left with nothing but a never give up attitude which saw them through a firece economic revolution and monopoly, taking over most of the markets and importation. When they were just about to recover from the government inflicted famine that claimed more lives than the bullets of the civil war, the blasphemous slogan "one Nigeria" was adopted to create a fake sense of belonging in the minds of those who managed to survive the war. The colonel had fled the country with no iota of victory in sight. The ones called kinsmen had connived with the enemy to hit the African jews so hard that all was no longer at ease. Not even the "ogbu ni igwe" could foster hope as mercenaries and western vultures aided the green army in exchange for the BIAFRAN crude oil and multi nationalism. This was the reality that was begining to unviel itself at a time when it became a crime to exercise the freedom of association and self determination. Turning towards her, I could see the bulging tip of her young nipples bathing in her sweat. "you know this country can still survive if only we see to it that justice prevail" I hastily dropped in to distract her from noticing my gaze which had shifted from her nipples to the lining of her peeping undies exposed by her sitting posture. I have always wished to inhale the aura that flows from her breathing. She was my ideal "juliet" even though we were only teenagers. "I am certain your aunt will be fine" I quickly added to reassure her of my priority to ensure that she is free from her poignant mood. "Let's take a little work" I suggested but my flippant stare suggested too much intimacy in my eyes which made her grin. "we may not know what it feels like to be termed an outcast as an indigine until you are bartered infront of the very people who should protect you" she said as we walked towards the football field. "Biafra or no Biafra we have the right to request for self determination" she added as we faded away from the glare of the Principal who had just beckoned on the regulatory prefect to ring the alarm.

© Arch Dmd