The Hall of Fame.

I can decide to give every one of you my readers the Hall of fame badge right now, but you and I know that it won't be enough to go around. Just know that you are a hero or a heroine wherever you find yourself. I will only take this moment to appreciate you all for keeping this platform going with your activeness and content. It may not be that easy for you to always find time to write, but you keep bringing something to the table. I truly appreciate the effort you are putting in. To the big names that have kept the tipping bot active with their generosity, you all are deserving of the Hall of Fame Badge. Thank you for being such a great source of joy and hope to mankind. You will never regret your actions.

I will go straight into the major reason for today's post.

Our Fallen Heroes.

Each time this time of the year rolls by, I usually hear my parents tell the story of how they survived the war. It is not a story that borders only on survival, it is also a story that talks about those that died during the Nigerian Civil war. Each time they tell this story, I see great pain and a feeling of loss in their eyes. They both lost their brothers in the war. My mum will go to the extent of asking me to remember the soul of her brother in my prayers so that he may find rest. She told me how he appeared to her in the dream the very day he died in the battle. She said he told her not to cry and wail for so long and that he is ok where he is. Well, I may not be able to understand the bond between the two of them which would have made the spirit of the brother appear to her the day he died.

While I was growing up, I use to listen to my grandma ( May her soul rest in peace) narrate how she and her three surviving children (my father, his elder sister and brother) ran for their lives the very day the Nigerian military started shelling their market. It was at this moment it occurred to them that the war has reached them. She told me that she never wanted to leave with her children but since she had no husband who could protect them if things turn out sour, she had no option but to run for safety. The funniest part of her story was when my father's elder brother was captured and conscripted into the Biafran Army. She had to hide my father inside the roof the very day the military captured my father's elder brother.

She told me how children were forced into the army because the Biafran Military needed more hands to fight with. It was truly a story that brings her to tears each time she narrates it to me. I won't forget the story she told me about how she had to hunt lizards in other to get me for my father and his sister. It was a terrible experience for her because I could still see the pain in her eyes as much as the war has happened years back. I believe if my grandma was still alive, she would be telling me the exact story today because today is the Biafran heroes memorial.

Just as you have read in the image above, today is a day that we remember our fallen brothers, sisters, uncles and fathers who gave their blood for freedom. The question I keep asking myself is; was the freedom actualised? Well, I can say that freedom was not actualised although great sacrifices were made.

I will use this opportunity to remember my uncles and fathers that died in the war. May their souls keep enjoying peace in the bosom of our creator. Right now we are all at home as a mark of respect and remembrance of our hero's past. Please I urge you to say a short prayer for the souls of those three million children lost in the war. These were children who were killed either by bullets or hunger. May their souls rest in Peace.