“Grandma, tell me the story about what happened to my father on his shoulder.” Ifeanyi’s child asked her grandma as she was cooking in the kitchen. Ifeanyi’s mother smiled, she took a seat, and told her grandchild for a million times what happened on that fateful day.
The morning sun had already broken gently that cool morning over Umuokpara village. The dusty roofs were bathed in golden glow.
For nineteen-year-old Ifeanyi, it was supposed to be an ordinary day for him. He had already made plans of how he would help his mother take her big basin of garri to the market to sell before heading off for his football practice. He got up that morning and happily tied the bags of garri his mother had given to him for the market that morning carefully on his bike. He kept whistling to this tune he didn’t know the words to. His younger sister, Nneoma, teased him that morning severely about it.
“Bros, so, it is this ordinary market you are preparing for like this?” she said with a mischievous smile.
“None of your business. Don’t worry, I already have a number of goals I will score for scouts to notice me,” he replied, carefully placing the basin of garri on his bicycle.
“I will join you on your bicycle to the market.” She added, stepping out of the house.
Ifeanyi let her sit on the frame of his bicycle, then they rode happily together to the market.
The path to the market was lively with chatter and the smell of roasted corn. Ifeanyi was so loved and popular among the market women that they kept on greeting him and his sister on their way to the market.
“Ifeanyi, with the way this women are calling you, hope you'll be able to marry all of them?” His sister joked. Ifeanyi laughed.
Everything felt normal on their trip to the market until just a stone's throw to the market, just near the T junction where the tarred road had spoilt, a loud bang shook the air. Everyone paused. Ifeanyi stopped his bicycle just to be sure where the sound was coming from and what it was. The sound came again, this time louder.
“Its gunshots!” A market woman screamed.
Immediately, people started running in different directions. Running for their safety. Seeking for shelter and a safe space. Ifeanyi looked at the other end of the road armed robbers were robbing a nearby shop, firing into the air to scare people. Ifeanyi’s heart pounded. He wanted to run, but remembered he was with his sister.
“Nneoma! Run!” he shouted, grabbing her hands.
The robbers waved their guns towards their direction. Ifeanyi thought of the safety of his sister. Without thinking, he dropped the bicycle and threw himself in front of Nneoma just as a bullet got out the trigger.
He felt pains on his shoulder he staggered but somehow still found the strength to get up and drag his sister to a safe space.
Then the villagers in one accord gathered courage and chased the robbers. Realizing, the were in danger, the robbers jumped into their getaway car and sped off.
Immediately Ifeanyi collapsed to the floor. His shirt was already soaked in his blood. Nneoma screamed his name over and over, shaking him as tears streamed down her cheeks, shouting for help. The villagers rushed towards them to help them. Some put pressure on the wound trying to stop it from bleeding, others ran to find transport to take him to the nearest clinic.
Few hours later, Ifeanyi opened his eyes in the hospital to see his mother and Nneoma crying beside him.
