I remember growing up in a small busy town in Plateau State: Jos. I remember vividly that the love we had for each other knew no boundaries. The market boomed even as men from different religions coexisted in love and harmony until one day everything changed.
It was a Friday night, I could still remember the smell of barbecued meat, locally called Suya. It filled the air that night, making me crave for more.
The breeze was cool, gentle but unusual. A once very busy Friday night turned really cold and empty as though all the stars in the skies became a falling star. The night became black with nothing within to twinkle.
And then for the first time in my life, I heard a real gunshot, and it sounded nothing like those in the movies. In the movies, it came with a certain chill of fun and sometimes anticipation, but this time, it sounded like death and had no warnings to it.
My dad rushed into the room where we were seated, and I have never seen a man so scared in my life like my dad at that moment.
"Where is your sister, he screamed". I looked left and right, she wasn't where she ought to be, maybe she went to the neighbor's house.
The sun had just set on the Cold city of Jos, a Friday of 2001. The sounds of sporadic gunshots came with the disclaimer that indeed, no one knows tomorrow.
Within an instant, mom and Dad had packed up our emergency clothes and foodstuffs, mom had gotten my sister from our neighbor's place, she was only a year old, and I, a little above 7 years old, yet I remember every detail of that day like it was yesterday.
We came out from our house to the sight of other locals like us running for safety, there were rumors of a religious clash going on in some centers it the once peaceful Jos city and the violence was spreading like a wildfire.
The question on everyone's mind is, "where is safe" as we all ran in different directions. Some never came back, some lives were never the same, while me, well, something within me changed as I saw how men could change in an instant and destroy something they once held dear.
I ran as fast as my tiny legs could carry me as men before and after me fell after each gunshot. Was I lucky or was it just not my time yet? I could not answer that.
The city still recovers from the memories of that day and days that followed. Men still lick their wounds till today as everyone looks over their shoulders and pray that the next gunshot isn't for them.
A once peaceful city shouldn't become a sight for sore eyes.