"Dark clouds are supposed to usher in rain... But in my world, they pull the pin of pain's grenade."
My name is Moses and I'm twelve years old.
I remember. It was on a Tuesday.
We were back in class after so much running around during long break. Trying to catch our breaths and relax.
He stood at the window beside our teacher's table, speaking to her in hushed tones and had a troubled look. He brought bad news.
Quick as a flash. Like a forest fire in harmattan, the news had spread. Pupils jumping out of windows and running in search of their siblings. Tears and loud cries rent the air.
"Ana fada! Ana fada!" (They're fighting! They're fighting!) Was all I heard; it was all I needed to hear.
My elder sister ran towards me, grabbed my wrist amidst hot tears as we set off!
The atmosphere was that of a village under siege.
There was a sea of school uniforms on the road, all running in different direction. Heading home to mamas and papas.
Getting home, mom had already gotten two of my other younger siblings from their school and started packing. Light. Probably enough to last a week or two.
We changed into house clothes and set out. Destination was the Army Barracks.
Dad didn't come with us; he couldn't come with us. It was best to avoid being seen. For they only kill men and left women and children.
I felt the urge to go the toilet but I knew it wasn't shit. It was fear that had found it's way down my alimentary canal.
Taking one last look at dad from the corner of my left eye, he had an old rusty machete that, on it's most potent day, would only succeed in making swelling signs upon impact, on his left hand. Dad was left-handed.
We got to the market and saw them. Wearing mixtures of petroleum jelly and grounded charcoal on there faces - Masks.
"Ku koma gida fa!"(go back home) One of them said to us in a tone that was clearly running out of patience. We marched on.
Shops were being destroyed. Lootings too!
We got to the Barracks gate. The soldiers all stood like spectators as a car was being smashed and it's occupants being set ablaze. They were waiting for commands to and stop the riot.
We walked past. And got to our destination. Daddy's friend was in the army.
The smokes from burnt churches, mosques and houses had substituted the clouds. Dad's soldier friend had promised to take some of his colleagues to fetch dad the next day.
They went. And came back.
.
Without dad.
.
So I as look up to the sky and behold the darkness. I don't see an incoming rain. I just wish dad would step out of that army van with them.
.
All these, because a Christian won the Governorship election in Kada state.
