1967, I witnessed first hand what a slaughter house looked like… I was Five, the second son of the Nwankwo`s Family, My Father and my elder brother where called in to join the Biafra/Nigeria Civil war and so we ran all the way from Enugu-ukwu to Nise to take shelter with my Mother’s brother.
News came back of the massacre and so when my father and brother didn’t return home, we mourned their death in the absence of their bodies and moved on. My mother eventually moved back to the home where she once made life with her husband, living me to be catered by her only surviving sibling… The war took more than it bargained for, it stole the very essence of life from a woman in her early twenties.
1983, My journey through Manhood was met by Communal, Ethnic and Religious Crisis… This Man, your Father lived through blood splatters living in the north, burnt houses, cars and shops in Benue state when the Fulani Herdsmen clash was high and has seen the results of Bad governance in all levels of the government.
In 1993, When Democracy came in, our generation was overwhelmed with joy, the Nation rejoiced at the sight of freedom but that too was short lived when MKO Abiola died… The Monsters wasn`t the Military or the Colonist… it was US
We were our own Enemies, No respecter of life… We lived watching Death toll rise, watching our people die for someone else’s greed.
2020 is only a repeat of all we’ve seen… the Tiv/Farmers Massacre, The Bokoharam Victims, Jos Christian Violence’s, Zakibiam Massacre and many more.
My Child pass this on, keep History alive
Never you forget, the blood of the innocent, the cries of your comrades and friends, the protestors who got murdered asking for a right to live.
Love… Your Father