©Nathaniel P. Nkwaps

Jim Reeve's voice filled the room as I got ready for church. I hummed along with the song as the words invade my soul.

"This world is not my home, I'm just passing through..."
I mused as I relived the reality of these words in my head. The tragic death of my dad was a bitter experience.

On my phone's screen was the acceptance letter to a scholarship I had applied for some time back.

The fact that I was going to study at Manchester was a dream come true.

Finally, I'm leaving the shores of this nation and the eternal tug-of-war between ASUU and the Federal Government.

"Kola!" rang my mother's voice from outside where she was waiting for me.

I picked up my Bible and dashed out immediately to meet my mom on the outside.

I was overwhelmed with love as I set my eyes on her.
Mama was an epitome of beauty. She stood elegantly, staring at me with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.

She was wearing a beautiful pink lace which shone brightly on her.
And on her head laid an elegant _gele_ which looked like a crown.

This superwoman singlehandedly raised me after we lost my dad to the cold arms of death about ten years ago in a ghastly motor accident.

...

The church wasn't far from home so we usually walk there.

"My dear son, I am so proud of you, and I know your father would be too where he is. You are a covenant child and I know that very soon, I shall reap the fruit of my labour." She said with pride and so much affection in her eyes.

"Mama" I replied, as we got to the church entrance. "I would go to the UK and make you proud. I would put only smiles on your face. And I know that we would eventually relocate there in time."

"My son is going abroad oh!" she sang and danced with elegance and grace as we walked through the church's entrance.

The mass was soul lifting and I paid rapt attention to every word the priest said till the very end of the sermon.

"May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the..."

We had begun chorusing the lord's prayer after the message. The Reverend Father had spoken on the need to give thanks to God almighty in all situations and my heart was indeed filled with gratitude. A few words into the recitation, loud noises were echoing from what seemed to be everywhere inside the church hall. At first, I shrugged it off as one of those loud noises that come out of _amp_ speakers when there is an electrical surge or a sudden disconnect in _amp_ wiring.

In a few seconds, a more recognisable noise blasted the air. It was gun sounds. I knew enough to discern that it was coming from a riffle.

"What's happening?" "What is that sound?" Said the young lady sitting next to me with a trembling voice.

I was confused. The atmosphere was tense. People were already scampering into places which they instinctively judged to be safe. Few made it out from the window whilst some got trampled upon heading for the door. Only the Reverend Father had what can be approximated at best, to be a stance of composure.

The terrifying gun sounds became so loud that one could hardly deny that they were coming from within the church premises.

Three can-like substances in a trajectory, flew into the church through the back entrance almost one after another and landed near the middle of the hall. They were light explosives thrown into the church. One seemed to have detonated before hitting the ground. Stunned, with a blurry vision, I saw some people still standing, scampering for safety. As I gained a bit of consciousness back, I saw a few rough looking men on the traditional _Jalabia,_ marching into the church armed with AK47 rifles. They immediately opened fire with no discrimination for age, gender or height.

"Where is mama?" I mused as I tried to crawl out through one of the doors close to the altar.

As I crawled, I felt a sticky liquid all over my hands. And as I put my head down to see, there, laid my beautiful mother in a pool of her blood.

I remained transfixed. I could feel every bone in my body shatter. Without a thought to self-preserve, I ran towards mama and held her tight in my arms. Her skin was already pale from blood loss. Her eyes had sunk deep in. She was cold and sallow. I knew she was dead, but I refused to believe she was dead.

I lifted my eyes filled with tears and saw a ras looking man about twenty and three years old, dangling a machete and charging toward me with anger and rage like a wounded bull, fighting for its life.

He slowed down to a halt as he got closer to me.
Looking up, I saw him wear a mischievous smile on his face. I could tell the excitement he got seeing how much pain he had inflicted on me and how much he could add to it.
I knew that was the end for me, I only prayed he never made it slow.

As he lifted the machete, I closed my eyes and had my last prayer answered. That was the end of me, I WAS GONE. Slain by my nation.

Remember me, you who are privileged to still breathe and walk the face of the earth.

I have gone the way of all the earth.

#NattyScripts

Mynd44 lalasticlala Oam4j