An Abandoned Diary

This diary is not mine, I actually thank God for that, it belongs to a braver person than I would ever be, maybe I’m exaggerating, but I don’t think I am, I found it hidden under a burnt cupboard, it’s pages were ragged and its thick black cover was burnt properly, the owner is actually…

On second thought, I think I’ll allow you to meet the owner yourself. 7:00 pm Fear and Fury. The gunshots sound different, deadly different; for someone addicted to action movies, it should be familiar, but action scenes are seen from the comfortably safe space of a Cinema; there is no safe space around here, not anymore, so the fear and the fury descends, Dad thinks it’s the home-grown security personnel, but even our little boy knows better like I said it was deadly serious, danger lurks with its closeness, and it is indeed getting close, we can almost feel their approach as they engage the security team, they seem to have the higher firepower, and it is becoming obvious. The fury begins to dissipate as we realize what the night entails. 

“Close the Windows,” my older Sister Abigail intones. Is there any need? I think the doors and windows would not do a better job than the faltering security personnel; we are definitely in for a long night. 8:45 pm Happenstance? They’re definitely through now; the gunshots are now singular and familiar, our eardrums adjust to its frightening reverberation, and stories had already circulated on the news and on social media about this novel insurgency. Had they picked us out by happenstance? I don’t think so; we have a huge concentration of certain individuals who, should I say, seem Jewish to this hitlerism group; this was no happenstance or a friendly visit. 9:40 pm Hide Sophie, hide!

“They might just be thieves” I wish my dad would quit talking; he is trying to provide encouragement by painting less demonic scenes in our minds, but the more he intones, the more glaring it becomes just how frightening he is, armed robbers don’t try and engage security when they have almost nothing valuable around, this is no robbery, they are now in the building, and the familiar shots now seem as deadly as it is. “Hide, Sophie hide” My little brother displays retentive skills as he dives under the large table, mirroring Tom Cruise; oh, don’t worry, little James, it’ll be over soon. 10:30 pm Concentration Camp. The speech is fast, and the voice sounds authoritative and shrewd, “cooperate, and it’ll be over soon,” it says; negative vibes swim through the area; even the wind seems scared; it whispers slowly as if in cooperation and commendation.“this building is now under lock and key, starting from the first floor, file out slowly.”

We lived on the sixth floor; the first, meanwhile, was inhabited by a dentist, James’s dentist friend, and his two little boys, a 15 years old boy stuck in the body of a middle-aged man. “I think my voice was clear enough” would he bulge? Such a terrible thing to go first, the greatest of risks, the lowest of rewards, taaaa, taaaa, the gunshots are serious now; it begs to consume a soul, even the Chief’s comrades are groaning, probably willing to lay down a marker for the rest of the building.

The door hinges creep open, “I’m here, I’m here, please don’t hurt my boys, “daddy; what is happening” a soft voice whispers into the pin-drop silence, “it’s okay, Junior” “They don’t look like nice guys” it replies, a chuckle is heard, and I’m amazed I’m still able to hold this pen. 11:20 History.

We live on the peculiar side of a very populated country, once considered the happiest people on earth (a strange consideration considering our developmental index). Anyway, this side is peculiar for many reasons; it predominantly charges and distributes justice not according to the national Constitution but one that is older, it has had the majority of the country’s leaders yet possesses the greatest percentage of mass poverty-stricken citizens, and like our experience now, insecurity. And since the national Constitution is nothing more than a ceremonial pact, its many essential qualities usually fall on deaf ears, Freedom of speech? Well (limitations) Freedom of association Well(limitation)

Freedom of religion? well (limitation)

So we exist in this never-ending cycle of unusual and mind-blowing hospitality sprinkled with usual occurrences of weird maiming and fear. I’ve had terror, yes terror, and I think it has made me who I am and that this pen is still writing; dad said Mom was lost during one of helter skater races for survival, the question that usually follows from Abigail or I is “Why do you come back then?” then this smile and change of topic. I just got admitted to study Law, in one of the big universities outside the state, it’s a huge responsibility, and I bought you, dear diary, to accompany me there, well seems you’d be doing more than that, you are going to be a historical document. 11:53 Answer the door, Sir.

The good doctor took the bait, and now we’re are all trapped, the “light out and not at home” excuse successfully trashed, “come on, Joseph, open the door; I saw you this evening” “Don’t waste my time Sir, we are already behind schedule.” A sobbing voice says, “can you take me, leave my wife and children out of this” then a cheek is rattled, a deep manly groan, and a female cry, some cruel sounds, and everyone understand his or her position, isn’t it miraculous the way raw power can still be very effective in this our innocent 21st century, the death row call continues, Mrs. Ajayi Morgan opts to confront the terror head-on than hiding behind a curtain, “yes gentleman, what can I do for you,” still not very effective, “get downstairs Ma,” the panic finally pierces her made-up confident voice, “wwwhy”? Heavy breathing, and it’s done.

Finally, we’re approached, it did seem the doctor wanted to let us off the hook, but the vigilant commandant pointed, “get them out” “you heard the man, open the door, sir; we’re in a hurry! 12:25 Finale, Maybe? Dad suddenly braves up and switches the light on, James refuses to open his eyes, and Abigail looks like a ghost; maybe I don’t yet understand the full scale of what is actually going on, but it’s still hard to take in, the good doctor motions for dad to come outside, the commandant is attentive “Please don’t cause any scene Obinna!

The house where I found this diary is currently down in ashes, burnt down the previous night by a bunch of unidentified hoodlums who kidnapped the entire occupants, Men, women, and children; their motives and whereabouts are still up for debate, and the political offices are strongly condemning the act, but Sophie’s diary might or might not help; however, she was probably right about one thing, it really did encapsulate history.

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