Scars and Spoils.

The wind blew like it was angry and I thought there was something about the intensity it carried while blowing. I was on my way to my ancient tin city, Jos. It was early January and the temperature was as usual very low. I didn't realize I was cold till my lips shivered on its own. I felt my teeth clench too. I carefully draped the wool scarf I carried round me to avoid an asthmatic bout.

Mararaba Ja'maa! The driver called out. The woman in front of me who made her not more than 10yrs old maid whom she called daughter sit on the floor of the vehicle alighted. I was so glad to see her go as all I wanted to do all along was give her a hot knock to reset her brain and probably, help take out the cold she felt as she was also shivering. I couldn't help but wonder how she treated the girl in secret. Maybe she treated her like my neighbor in Abuja, who beat her maid daily even without provocation. I mean, if you can't treat them well, why bother.

The tired Plateau riders bus slowly dragged itself past the roundabout. I couldn't help but hiss at the way it moved. Slowly, we passed the checkpoint. I shivered again. I should have prepared well against the cold. I dragged my wool scarf around me again and my hand touched the scar on my head. Then, I remembered as we approached Bukuru. I remembered that cold morning. Mama was saying her prayers in the room and my half-awake self could hear her sing "Oh Lord, I am very very grateful" the way it was sang in our COCIN church. I was still sleeping when I heard feet run past my window. I stood groggily, sleep still clouding my eyes and opened the window. Mama's voice raised in prayers, thanking God for opening our eyes to see another morning. If only we knew it wouldn't last. I peeped out to check if I could still see who ran past. No one. I went back to bed in a bid to continue sleeping. 

Then I heard a piercing scream. I listened out and realized it was our tall fair neighbor I didn't like. I didn't like her because she was tall, fair and was a youth corp member serving while I had to stop school after SSCE due to money issues. Life isn't fair you know..

Please, help me. Leave me. No. No. No.. She screamed out.

And she went quiet.

Mama had heard that too so she stepped out. My elder sisters four year old daughter, Timiya, who was with us on holiday had woken in fear and held tight to me. Then, I saw yellow sisis' house rise in flames. What's happening? I stood up and tied a wrapper over the flimsy gown I wore to bed. I turned around and I saw Timiya on her way out to find mama. I peeped out of the window again and I saw blood flowing. Mamas' neck had been slashed. I ran towards the door to get Timiya back safe inside. It must have been one of the inter tribal or political crisis again. The smoke from Yellow sisis' burning house was choking me. Timiya held on to Mama's lifeless body crying. I saw one masked man come towards me. I tried running in but I couldn't move. My leg was transfixed to the ground. Slowly, I blacked out. I must have had an asthmatic attack again.

I woke to see Timiya beside me in a white washed building I later realized to be a makeshift hospital. I lifted my head and the pain hit me. My head was heavily bandaged. I remembered how I fell on the sharpened sickle the masked man running towards me held. Then it hit me. Mama was dead. I was grateful Timiya was spared. I later heard my sisters area in Gada Biu was badly hit. None survived. Timiya was all I had left and tomorrow, she is graduating from AFGCS. 

I had moved out of Jos after I was spared from that crisis but I couldn't help but honor my late sisters dream of wanting Timiya to attend AFGCS. Tomorrow, the last of me will leave Jos.

That must have been why the cold bit me hard. Why the wind was angry. There was blood on the land and it cried out to Heaven for peace.

Jos still beckons.

Fear still looms.

I do not know how.

All I want is for us to go back to living in peace so I can return with joy.

Disclaimer: Some people who lived in Jos and other crisis prone areas may have experienced this type of crisis; watched their loved ones die and may have been left with no one. However, this is just a figment of the writers imagination, effect of research done during her years in Jos. The above written is PURELY FICTION