I was only 5 years old.
I was looking forward to my 6th birthday that year.
As a jolly child I went around looking for trouble, pulling other children's hairs, tearing books that I didn't think were relevant.
Infact, I had come first in my class that term...
I was the smart troublesome kid in the block.
Things were going pretty nice...
Until...
Suddenly we heard that dreaded call...
The call that determined if you would be alive the next minute, or if you'd be struggling for your life in a pool of your own blood...
An fara! An fara!...was the call.
Meaning... They've started, they've started
If you lived in Jos, Plateau State, you would know that call...
You would know that the next thing to do was run.
You wouldn't begin to think of your sales that you didn't make, you wouldn't begin to think of the movie you didn't watch.
The adrenaline that surges through your veins at that instant was a signal that if you flop now, your head might be rolling on the ground the next minute.
I was confused, being just a 5yr old at the time. I couldn't really fathom what was happening.
The next thing I heard was my Dad and Mum shouting and calling for me, I ran into the house in fear. We all sat together, praying that nothing would happen to anyone... I was even more concerned about my little sister who was only 3 at the time.
After a while, someone came to our house. My Dad went outside to speak with him.
Then he came inside, told us to pack a few things we needed to leave immediately.
Not long after we started parking we heard a crazy sound coming from the kitchen.
It was the sound of the glass window in our kitchen shattering.
We quickly took off... Not bothering to check what it was.
We ran to the nearest barrack.
There were so many injured people in the Barrack.
I saw the fruits of violence for the first time as a young boy at 5.
The air was thick with the smoke from burning houses and churches.
That was the last time I saw my house, it was burnt to the ground.
Since then, I have grown up with the knowledge that we could suddenly be forced to leave school because no place was safe.
As a secondary school student, I cant count the number of times school was disrupted because we heard...
An fara! An fara!
Fast forward to this day...
I lost a friend recently...
Guess how? He was stabbed by unknown hooligans while going home...
It seems like the more time passes by, the more I realize that Nigeria is not a society, it's a jungle...
You have to be strong to survive, you can't afford weakness...
I have grown strong under this whole thing.
I am tougher now... I have learnt street skills, diplomacy, hiding your head to prevent calamitous experiences.
But every passing day I ask myself this one question...
Would you allow your children to be born and raised in this environment?
Would you like your kids to go to school everyday knowing that, they might come home with a cut, a laceration or worse...
They might not even come back at all?
How would you feel when your child tells you...
Daddy, I am scared...
And you know that there's nothing you can do but hope and pray that nothing bad happens.
Everyday I ask myself that question...
Everyday, the answer gets clearer.
I never want my son to be that 5yr old boy whose early life is stained by the pictures of malice, war, death and killings.
It happened to me, it should never happen to him.