Playbacks to the Sixties – During the Nigerian-Biafrian War

The age that brought children's adventure was the same as the suffering of adults. While children explored rural nature, adults were worried about the surviving hunger that the Federal Republic of Nigeria had said was the fastest way to put the Igbo tribe's Art Nouveau Biafranzas on their knees.

At night, the boy got up in the early morning sunshine. Outside, on the sandy facade of the house, with a wooden wedge, and opened the wooden door. He was standing outside, waiting for an unintended intention. To the left there was a low Bahama grass strip that stretched on the main road and was in front of it in a massive street.

He was not a living creature except Jimmy, the hairless neighboring dog. Because of the fear of unbiased bombardment, the parents instructed the children to stay in a closed space. The men were hiding to avoid the forced reception of the Biafran army. Women cultivated the soil.

The boy thought for a moment. He could walk the grass surface until he reached the two stone walls at the front of the street, or waited, hoping that another disobedient child would come out to play. The dog is around the uneven, dusty red road. Rickily ripples developed like a wire basket, the juggernaut sinking from the back of the limb to the dangling abdomen, wrapped around and stopped to smell the bushes as he walked. He lifted his leg, lifted Jimmy and ran away. He stopped again, hesitated before squatting to throw five narrow bristles in the street. As many people became angry after the release, they quickly speeded up the pace and soon fired.

Turned to the left, the boy only saw the shadow of the two walls. The beginning of the road was marked, which cut to the street where he lived. Last year was too short to climb up. This year was different. He knew he could get up there, rejoicing in his heart.

After the spot, the boy started toward the stone wall. Halfway down, two angles in the sunlight, one in the top. The boy had always wanted to get a grasshopper. The capture of the two has come true for a dream. He put it in an empty matchbox, he cares for them and feeds the ants until they grow up.

But the grasshoppers always stared at him. "Why are you so trickier in this neighborhood of the grasshopper?" she often complained to her grandmother. "Uka, these grunts are tempted," he warned.

If there was not a war, then it's still on Onitsha, Akokwa, instead of their ancient house. The town of Onitsha, where he lived all his life, has been a different challenge to a five-year-old than in the village.

Children born in the village can catch the grasshoppers. Their stealth, speed and jumping were what they needed now. He imagined that he would gain respect if two grasshoppers would show them when they came out. The Uka accounted for a moment, two, and three before she was diving with her two palms. "Take them!" he exclaimed. He woke up with his head, shoulder, and knee. He glanced carefully between his fingers. "Nothing," he hissed, dropped her back to the floor with backs and moi-moi leaves. Then there was a silent voice in the nearby bush. Grasshoppers seemed to mock the failure.

Very often in life, only encounter with failure means that we think twice. "Should I go home or continue the two stone walls?" the boy wondered. "Go home," a voice said in his head. "Go on," he whispered. Both souls resembled each other like two dogs in a fighting fight. The first soul won.

Soon he stood at the foot of the stone wall on the right. With a big leap he sat on the top of the wall. A few pebbles stuck to his buttocks and reminded him that he did not clean the top before he sat down. Turning his left hand wiped the top of the wall where the right knot sat. He switched the base and used his left palm to sweep pebbles from the left hip.

As he sat up, he jumped up again like the depleted pebble. His three left sleeves pulled the threatening gravel into the pale shorts. The hole was not punctured, but a thread that was covered by the web of woven fibers. He grabbed the gravel on his neck, unable to pull it out of the hole; so he jumped off the stone wall, unlocked his hips, and the gravel went to his thigh.

A voice that broke the silence of the neighborhood prevented another effort on the wall. – Oh, where are you? On the way home, the boy noticed Jimmy from the opposite direction. His footsteps were quicker, more purposeful, and practically missed, and a bruised body of a dead animal in his mouth

Source by Anselm Anyoha

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