by Eddie Emah

 

 

 

The tolling of the bell was for dinner. Actually, the bell was not a bell. It was the wheel of a car tyre, hung on a gmelina tree by a chain and used as a means of calling the children to eat or pray. We pray a lot in the refugee camp. 

I am not a good judge of the weather, and judging from the events of the past days, of humans too. Speaking of the weather, today day had begun on a sunny note, the weather was so dry that I washed my only Tee and hung it out on the cloth line to dry, in the hope that I’d have it on my skin in a few hours. Then came the wind, it blew and blew, next was the rain. The weather would not have broken my heart so much if I hadn’t snuck off with Tope to watch the airplanes in the military airbase after washing. By the time the wind had given birth to the rain, I was ten minutes away from our tent. My Tee probably fell to the earth, the red mud probably did a second washing. I say probably because I returned to an empty cloth line, heartbroken, shirtless, and hopeless. Then I heard the bell toll…

A week ago my town fell to the rebel forces; it was a fierce fight which lasted for three days. Three days of nonstop shelling and firing. The sound of gunfire replaced the voices of children playing in the open field. Even the birds forgot to sing in the evenings. The few iron hearted people who went to fetch water at the local borehole were sent back, but not before they found out that the only source of drinking water had been blown up by the rebel troops. On the third day, the Gherian troops pulled out and the Rebels took over. The rebels came to our house led by our neighbor, Mr Omag, who I liked very much, and asked for my Pa. Mr Omag was always nice and he loved my family. When I saw him at first, I stopped being afraid of the rebels and ran to hug him. He looked at me sternly and shooed me off. Then I knew something bad was happening. Sam had started sobbing. We told them that Pa was not around; they shouted at Sam and me to step outside. Ma was still in the parlour begging them to let all of us go, that we did not know anything about the war. Then it happened, we heard a gunshot and Ma’s faint voice asking us to run… I ran, carrying nothing but the Tee I wore. A few moments later I turned in my flight and saw our house up in flames. Tears came to my eyes and I ran with it, blindly…

The tolling of the bell was for dinner. Actually, the bell was not a bell. It was the wheel of a car tyre, hung on a gmelina tree by a chain and used as a means of calling the children to eat or pray. We pray a lot in the refugee camp. We pray that the war should end; that there should be more food; that more people will donate to keep us alive. My own prayers are different; I pray for Pa, that he come for me; I pray to see Ma again, to see Sam. Yesterday we were told that the rebels had bombed a refugee camp in the next province. We all pray for safety. Sister Beatrice tells us that we are safe because God loves children, I do not know whether to believe her, the Sisters in the camp that was bombed probably said the same things to children in their camp to keep fear away. Dinner was melon soup and small pieces of bread. We received same thankfully from the Sisters. After dinner was roll call. I was still standing around, bare-chested, shivering in the cold.

Mechima Takom

Present, Sister! I answered.

Come forward.

Sister Beatrice came from France, or so Tope said. She kept pronouncing Mechima as Meshima, in the end, I believed Tope. Many thoughts ran through my head as I approached the powerful camp light under which she stood, she never asks anyone to come forward during roll call, except something was wrong. Her white apparel glowed: there under that tent, she looked angelic, and the tent in which she stood looked like the dwelling of light she had described during the morning devotion as God’s home. All my misdemeanors taunted me that very moment. I was ready to confess that I had left the camp to go and watch airplanes with Tope; but she did not ask. She just handed me my faded Tee. It was dry and neatly folded; she had picked it up when the wind started. I was right, she was an angel.

 

To be continued

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Edidiong I. E. Emah, holds an LL B from University of Calabar, currently studying at the Nigerian Law School, Bwari. Just like Robert Buchanan, he “holds all knowledge unblest that helps no struggling man”. Jack of all sports, master of PES.