SOUNDS OF THE BIAFRAN WAR (A SHORT STORY)

|Sounds Of The Biafran War: 1966 Counter-Coup|

(This is an excerpt from one of the stories I am currently writing. Set during the Biafran War/Nigerian Civil War (1967-1970), the story recounts my grandmother’s experiences during the three-year tribal conflict that took away her husband (my grandfather) and changed her life forever. The characters in the story are real. I have only changed their names to protect their privacy. I hope you enjoy!)

She added salt, onions and seasoning cubes to the meat that was boiling on the stove, and began removing the skins from the cocoyams she boiled earlier so that she could crush them into a paste. When she was sure that the meat had cooked enough, she added the cocoyam paste to help thicken the stew, as well as some peppers and smoked fish. She noticed the water in the pot had reduced, so she added some more. She stirred the stew for a while, stopping every now and then, to wipe off the sweat on her brow with the hem of her wrappa. When she was satisfied, she added some palm oil and stirred again until the palm oil mixed well with the stew. She was so focused on the stew she was making, that Chibuzor startled her when he ran into the kitchen, laughing and screaming. He had been play fighting with Papa and Kelechi in the living room and had come to the kitchen to shield himself from them. He tried hiding in between her legs, but she shooed him away. But just as he was running back out, she thought of asking him for some assistance. “Chibuzor!” She called. He answered her, laughing with excitement. “Bịa ebe a ọsisọ.” Come quickly, she told him. He ran back to the kitchen, laughing. She handed him some plates and spoons and asked him to set them neatly on the dining table. He collected them and ran out.

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The stew was almost ready now, and the smell of spices and smoked fish filled the air. She added the Oha leaves she had shredded with her hands into the stew and stirred again until she was satisfied. Then she closed the pot to allow the stew to cook for a while. Through the window, she could see some men seated under the baobab tree in the open courtyard they shared with the neighbours. She watched them as she took out a stainless-steel jug from the fridge and topped it with water from the tap. Then she took the jug to the dining room and placed it on the table next to the plates and bowl of garri.

“A kwadebela nri.” The food is ready, she said to Papa and the boys who were now playing chase in the living room.

Back in the kitchen, she turned off the heat on the stove and scooped some of the stew into a bowl. Then she emptied the stew left in the pot into a bigger bowl and stored it in the refrigerator. She was hoping that the stew in the big bowl would last them for at least a week. After washing the pot, she took the stew in the smaller bowl to the living room and placed it on the table.

“Nne, ị mara mma taa.” My dear, you are beautiful today, Papa said to her playfully as he sat Kelechi in his baby stool. Chibuzor was sitting on the opposite side, frolicking with a plate and spoon in his hand. Above the window in the dining room hung a green crucifix, and next to it, hung a black and yellow wall clock. It was a few minutes past six in the evening.

“Emeka, hapu m.” Emeka, leave me alone, she replied, trying not to blush. “Biko, mee ọsisọ, ka anyị kpe ekpere. Agụụ na-agụ m.’ And please, hurry, so that we can pray. I am hungry, she added, taking a seat next to Kelechi. After Emeka had secured Kelechi in his baby stool, he said the Grace, and she began dishing out the food. 

Now, as she scooped out some stew for him, he watched her intently with a broad smile on his face. Noticing the smile on his face, she stopped and asked, “Kedu ihe mere?” What happened?

He laughed. “I na-ajụ m?” Are you asking me, he said to her. “I should be the one asking you that question. You have not been yourself since Saturday afternoon.” She sighed and continued dishing his food. After she served him, she put some stew into Chibuzor’s plate and placed a small lump of garri beside the stew. Then she cut the garri into small chunks to make it easy for him to eat. She served herself finally, and as she ate, she fed Kelechi little chunks of her garri and stew with her fingers. 

“Emeka, gwa m,” tell me, she said with a worried look on her face. “How can we be so comfortable with all the protests and massacres that have been happening in this town since the beginning of this year. Things have just been getting worse. I don’t feel safe here anymore.”

He softened the lump of garri in his mouth and gulped it down, licking his fingers and smacking his lips. “Nne, kedu ihe ichoro ka m mee?” My dear, what do you want me to do? He replied. “Do you want me to close the shop, and watch our children die of hunger? We have stopped Chibuzor from going to school, and we don’t go out as much as we use to do.” “Echegbula onwe gị” Don’t worry yourself, he continued. “I’m sure things will get better. And this is Yerwa; those hoodlums won’t come here.” She sighed. Kelechi began making gurgling noises, so she put some garri and stew in his mouth and watched him smack his lips and make faces at the taste of the food. They had only started to feed him adult food recently, and he seemed to like most of it. She was not worried about having him eat enough of the garri and stew now because she had fed him some pudding and tuna earlier, and she still planned on breastfeeding him before going to bed. They ate the rest of their food in silence, and Chibuzor led them in the Grace afterwards. Then she cleared the table with Chibuzor’s help while Emeka carried Kelechi to the living room to listen to the news at seven on the radio.

She had almost finished washing the plates when she heard her husband shouting her name. She left the plates and ran to the living room, leaving a trail of water behind her. “O gini?” What is it? She asked, anxious, her heart racing. Although the volume of the radio set was high, he held it close to his ears. There was a sombre look on his face as he listened to the static voice coming from it. Chibuzor was sitting on the floor with he head resting on his father’s knee. He seemed perplexed yet sad about what was happening. Emeka asked her to sit and listen to the nonsense coming from the radio, but she was too worried to do so.

“O di mma?” Is everything okay, she asked.

“They’ve appointed the chief of staff as supreme commander.” He replied. “Lieutenant Colonel Yakubu Gowon; he is now Head of State.”

“Ke maka, Aguiyi?” What about Aguiyi? She asked. “Did they say anything about his whereabouts?”

“Mba.” No, he replied. “They’re still saying that they do not know where he is.”

“Egbwo ya, ha!” He has been killed, she lamented.

“Yes, it was a counter coup all along.” He said.