This is a work of fiction based on real events. It's a possibility I wish remains fiction. I do not wish to incite violence of any kind against people of different tribes.
Image gotten from. https://images.app.goo.gl/HTo4KSDETBtNSspe7
“If we don’t rule the country, no one else will.” that’s probably what the Northern overlords swore when the new president came into power. And they wrecked the country.
It all started a few weeks ago when the presidential election results were being announced. I remember sitting on the couch in my house, watching the live stream on television with the rest of my family. It was almost midnight, but we were still up. Like many other people in the country, we had high hopes for one particular candidate, Mr Paul Obi.
He had a lot of support from the people of our country, but the odds were against him. His rivals, Mr Abubakar Ahmed and General Asiwaju Tamar, had set up schemes to rig the election.
While waiting for the results, there were rumours and news about missing ballot boxes, underaged voting in the north, and other electoral vices. Though prevalent, these issues were barely addressed by the electoral commission.
Beads of sweat rolled down the side of my face as the results were announced state by state. The president of the electoral commission started from the western protectorate. In each state, there was tough competition between three candidates until they moved over to the southern protectorate.
Mr. Paul took the lead there. There was a wide gap between him and his opponents. I felt so optimistic until the results from the northern states were called.
My hopes for Mr Obi’s victory diminished by the minute. It began to look like the competition was between General Asiwaju Tamar and Mr Abubakar Ahmed.
As the last of the northern states were announced, I whispered a few words of prayer. After the state results were called, there was a short break before the final verdict was announced. My mom left the room we were in to join her friends in a zoom meeting for a session of prayers.
The five-minute break felt like an eternity. Millions of thoughts buzzed through my head. I imagined what would become of the country if Mr Obi did not win, after all the excitement and enthusiasm behind his campaign. He was the only candidate that could save the country from its current state of disrepair. He couldn’t lose. We all needed him.
After the break, the outgoing President, the one who turned the country into an absolute mess, decided to make an announcement. He urged Nigerians to accept the results of the elections regardless of who won. He also asked for peace and stability after the elections.
The chairman of the electoral committee returned and proceeded to the aggregate of each candidate’s vote. There were huge numbers for Mr Obi’s rivals. General Asiwaju's numbers were exceptionally really high.
Mr Obi’s vote count was the last to be announced.
Surpassing General Asiwaju with hundreds of thousands of votes, Mr Obi won the elections. An ecstatic feeling washed over me. I hugged everyone around me. Outside, I could see fireworks in the sky. I could hear neighbours screaming with joy. It felt invigorating.
Later that day everywhere was buzzing with the news of the election results. On Twitter, there were over a million tweets tagged presidentObi. The news even made it to the international scene. It headlined big news companies like BBC news and CNN.
A week later, he was inaugurated as the new President of the country. That’s when things began to go sideways. Several local Northern rulers began to announce their opposition to the new government.
They claimed that they wouldn’t want to be ruled by anyone who wasn’t their “northern brother.” The new president was however, a southerner. A lot of northern indigenes who lived in the southern and western states seemed to agree with the idea. The Fulanis were the ones that started it all.
They started by executing a couple of the southerners that lived in the north, and soon they moved to the south. There was a sharp rise in terrorist attacks by the Fulani in the south.
The law enforcement officers were dispatched to maintain law and order, but somehow, nothing changed. Things went from bad to worse. Southern indigenes decided to take matters into their hands, and many northern indigenes who resided in the south were driven out of their homes. Some were attacked, killed, and some were even burned alive.
Freedom fighters from the north began to arise. They vowed to protect their indigenes by taking over the south.
There was no room for negotiations as the two groups took matters into their own hands. Southerners were driven out of their homes by northern bandits. Homes were razed to the ground, and there was bloodshed in almost every southern state.
It was particularly bad in the state I resided. There was crossfire in different parts of the state. The state governor declared a sit-at-home for all residents. More police were deployed to keep law and order.
Everything seemed calm for a few days until Igwuruta was attacked. It was the district right next to Eneka, the district I lived in. According to witness reports, several policemen were killed by a mob of northern bandits. Our safety was compromised, and my family started making plans to leave the state. It was almost midnight, and I was in my room, scrolling through social media. The nation was a mess. “Nigerian Civil War” was trending on Twitter. I reached out to a bunch of my friends to know how they were keeping up with the country's situation. While we were talking about what was going on in the country and our various neighbourhoods, my dad burst into my room and told me to join the rest of the family upstairs.
I joined my family in my parents’ room. My younger brothers, who were previously asleep, were wide awake.
“This place isn’t safe for us anymore,” he began. “I just spoke to oga James, and he said that they’re burning houses at Culvert. The situation is crazy. We have to leave very soon.
“Your mum’s office sent her driver to pick us up. There’s a shelter in her workplace. It’s mostly for staff and their relatives. The driver will be here soon, so get everything you need ready. Don’t pack too much.”
My bags were already packed. I’d thought something like this might happen, so I had already prepared for this moment. I helped my siblings get their things ready.
In no time, we were ready. Since the driver hadn’t arrived yet, my mom packed foodstuff and snacks we would go with.
Soon, we heard a loud horn outside our house. It was my mom’s driver. He came in a minibus. There was another family on the bus. They were the family of Mr Harry Osbourne, one of my mom’s colleagues at work.
We loaded our stuff into the bus, but not all of us could get in. There was no room for two people.
Before I got on the bus, my dad pulled me aside.
“Big brother, he whispered. “I want you to do something for me.” There was so much emotion in his voice that I almost teared up.
“You’ve grown to be a big boy. You’ve exhibited many positive changes, and there’s one, in particular, I want you to hold on to. Protect your loved ones.”
My heart fell. This wasn’t happening. “Daddy, you can still come with us. I’ll give you my seat. I can stay...”
“Don’t say that. Every parent must protect their children. I’m fulfilling that responsibility by allowing you to go with your mom and siblings. You’re the first son and my first child. If something happens to me, you’re going to be the one in charge of the family.”
"Don’t say that" I said
“Till I join you guys, you’re in charge of the family. Protect your siblings and your mother. Do your very best. Promise me that"
This couldn’t be real. My hesitant response finally slipped through my lips “I promise.” My mom came towards us, and I went back to the bus. I knew she wanted private time with my dad. She returned soon, crying silently. It broke my heart.
We soon heard gunshots in the area. Everyone got on the bus except the two fathers. The driver started the journey, taking us away from the chaos advancing towards my neighbourhood.
Mid-journey, he took an unfamiliar turn.
“Pius, where are we going?” My mom asked the driver.
“The usual route isn’t safe,” he replied. “This is the one people now use.” It seemed to clear up the doubt on the bus but, his reply didn’t sit well with me.
It took me a while to reason that if this was an alternative route, there would have been other road users in the area, and there weren’t any.
Something was wrong.
The driver parked the bus. He cursed in Hausa. “All of you should leave this bus now.” He ordered as he came out of his seat. He opened the back door and screamed something in Hausa. That was when I saw the gun. I was completely confused and scared. My heart raced. Everyone obeyed.
“Kneel beside the bus.” He commanded. He said something in Hausa and chuckled.
“All of you southern scum are going to die.” He wasn’t joking around. His face was wild with bloodlust and rage.
I could taste bile in my mouth. My siblings were sobbing beside me. Mrs Osbourne held her two daughters, weeping. This was real.
“Protect your siblings and your mother.” my dad had said
How could I protect them when I was as helpless as everyone else around me? We were going to die.
I wrote this a couple of days back on the day of the elections. The real results of the elections were disappointing. It was generally unfair and rigged. But, to my fellow Nigerians out there, have hope.
Edit: I edited this multiple times because I was trying to upload an image. It's my first post on Peakd so, I'm still trying to find my way.
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