Echoes

The damp air whirled softly, ruffling fallen leaves of the Bamboo tree which bore semblance in colour, with the hays of the northern fields. Long stems in their different sizes, all having tiny branches and leaves did very well to provide a natural shade for Idris and Ada. At last, they had an opportunity to see each other. In that time, it was a very rare case to find people of different ethnicity being in romantic relationships, let alone getting married. The odds were clear, the barricades barred with legal boulders the view of the horizon, and their hopes had no sunrise or sunset but still, they believed. ‘I will take you to Kano, one of these days. We will visit my grandfather’s farm and harvest big tubers of yams which I will use to ask for your hand in marriage’ said Idris, with an assuring smile, one she had seen one too many a time but she always allowed herself fall for his charming words even though they both knew it was a dream which wouldn’t survive the night. And when the morrow came, they were not scared to dream again.

They had met each other a year earlier in the ever busy Onitsha market. She had gone to buy some herbs for her ailing father who was down with Pile. As fate would have it, Idris had on the same day gone to s e l l f r e s h l y h a r v e s t e d vegetables and yams. His father, Mallam Tanko, had a large plot of land which he had purchased in his youth when he m o v e d f r o m Ibadan, the city of O y o s t a t e i n western Nigeria i n the year 1930 a n d used it for farming . H e h a i l e d f r o m K a n o , b u t m o v e d w e s t and then, further east, in search of greener pastures. Having spent over two decades in the Eastern city, he had settled well and had a family, with Idris being the first of three male children. That market day, the weather was perfect. The sun showed off its brimming gold and market men and women clustered around their selling station, seeking to sway parading customers into patronizing them. He piled the yam tubers in three separate heaps and spread the vegetables on a clean sack which covered a small portion of the red market soil. He was not the most handsome – his large nose and dark skin which only became darker with more time spent under the scorching sun, coupled with his Hausa intonation made him look less Ibo, which was socially and culturally unattractive at that time.

He was yet calling for customers when he saw Ada passing by. For a moment he w a s held in endless pause a n d could feel his heart melting on his palm. She was adorabl e a n d indeed a true I g b o beauty . T h e rays of the sun c l u n g gracefully to her fair s k i n and her voluptuo u s f i g u r e remote-controlled heads. Idris w a s n e v e r the shy t y p e , as he left behind his goods to follow the light he saw in the gloomy and rowdy Onitsha market. And when he reached her, he told her of the glory her beauty commanded and how her gazelle-like walk left him for dead. He made her laugh so hard and right there, their stars crossed and just as the saying goes, the rest is history.

Late in the morning of January 15, 1966, after the first coup, the city of Onitsha was in an uncharacteristic dour state. The sky was pale and the streets deserted. Only very few people walked along the roads which saw few cars pass by within long time intervals between them. The ever busy Onitsha market was as quiet as the night, only birds and dogs were seen roaming around scavenging for food. The shops were in locks of different shapes and sizes; it was like the whole city was in mourning. Ever since Nigeria gained independence from the British on October 1st, 1960, the country had never been the same. Anambra (where Onitsha is located) and several other south-eastern states had agitated to be an independent nation from Nigeria. They cited political inequality and favouritism of other zones, corruption and many other touching issues as their reason, including the tussle for oil in the Delta region. Biafra was their dream and there was no diplomatic means of making it a reality; heads had to roll. That morning, Mallam Tanko was sitting on his arm chair, where he had been all night, having not batted an eye. His mind sojourned far and near; all still within the frame of the g r o w i n g insecurity which was starting to p l a g u e t h e region. His v e r y g o o d friend and business partner, Alhaji Kabir, had left the east with his family and fled back to the north where he was guaranteed of a better security, he was home. Having thought all night, he made up his mind to return to Kano with his family. He called out to his wife, ‘Alhaja, gather all the things you can gather, we are leaving this place, first light tomorrow’. She saw his concerns within the retreating sockets of his eyes and his twiddling fingers gave all manner of interpretations. She understood. ‘Hassan, you and Mamu, start arranging your things’. She ordered her second and third boys. Mallam Tanko then decided to meet with some of his customers who owed him money from items purchased on credit; he needed as much money as he could gather for the journey. He was already on his way when Idris ran out to meet him. ‘Uba, I heard we’re leaving, why?’ he asked. ‘Yes, we’re leaving and we must. There is a war coming and we are right at the centre of the battlefield. Go put your things together, we leave first thing tomorrow’. ‘Uba, please… please, no place is safe. We can be safe here, we can take care of each other’ Idris said, trying to change his father’s mind. ‘Shut up! Is it because of that stupid girl? I have always told you, it can’t work! She’s Ibo and you are Hausa. The coup has been done; they killed our people, why will they spare us?’ ‘She didn’t do it Uba, neither did her family. I won’t leave her, Uba, I am not going with you’.

These words resonated like ambulance sirens in his ears, he found his naivety difficult to believe and even more difficult were words to say. Idris was old enough to make his decisions, at 21, he was man enough to even get married. The intensity of the moment was high, his father looked deep into his eyes, as though searching for the son he once knew, though his shaking eyeballs made it difficult to maintain focus. The moment was disrupted when the ground beneath them shook greatly. It felt like a tremor but they both knew it was either a missile or shell explosion. Mallam Tanko left him and continued his quest, only this time, more quickly and with a fainting heart.

It had been seven months since Idris separated from his family, making the decision to stay, even in the midst of the crisis. But things were becoming tougher and there was barely food to eat. 'Papa said a very tough war is coming. Chika and Amadi, my brothers, have been enlisted to join the Biafran Army. My love, I am scared. I heard they have started killing northerners in the neighbouring Ibo states, you must leave why there’s still a chance, please’. Ada said in-between throaty sobs. ‘Ada, we have survived this long together. Many things have happened; we can still make it through. You father does not want me to take you away with me. I am stuck in love with you, please, don’t send me away’, he said kneeling and holding her hands in a farmland not too far from Ada’s father’s house, which had been their meeting point. They usually went further into it, just to escape prying eyes and keep Idris safe from Biafran armies. She pulled him up to herself, with her breasts flattened on his chest, she put her lips on his and they kissed passionately. They made their moon in the day and sun at night, a peace in war and a right in wrong, their love was incredibly strong and difficult to believe.

Just as their blood began to boil and strips of clothes were falling in places, there was a sudden sound of movement in the bush nearby. They stopped, stooped and watched. They put the stripped clothes back together and lay low for a moment. Suddenly a dog wriggled out of the bush with a bell strapped to the neck, “Oh, it is a lost hunter’s dog” Ada said, heaving a deep sigh of relief. Idris put his hands around her neck and just as he was about to continue expressing his love to her, there was a sudden stomping of boots and before they knew it, they were surrounded by Biafran soldiers. Pleasures suddenly gave way to fear and their sweet moment turned sour, the only thing that didn’t change was love. He held her to the ground, trying to protect her but it was actually him that needed protection. A soldier came towards them and dragged her away from him. It was like one of those moments in slow motion and sorrowful background song, where they both struggle to reach each other, as their outstretched fingertips are drifted further apart. She begged and cried, hitting the soldier holding her with the base of her fist, hitting as hard as she could, all to no avail. ‘See this one, he is a northerner, a bloody northerner!’ It was Amadi, Ada’s brother, who spoke. ‘Brother Amadi, please… you know Idris, he’s a good man. Please… you know I love him, please spare him, for me’. She cried even louder. ‘Mamba, please take my sister away from here’. Ada was carried forcefully out of the farmland as her voice faded into the distance.

The incessant knocks on the door was becoming annoying. Empty bottles of alcohol could be seen littered all over the ground in the dimly lit room. ‘Who’s there? Who the hell is there?’ He did very well to find balance at first but staggered towards the door. When he eventually opened up, he saw no one. He could still hear the sounds of her cry; she spoke to him every night. Now he was hearing knocks on the door with no one on the other side. Idris started to think he was going nuts. It had been ten years after the end of the civil war and twelve years since that fateful day when he was beaten up badly by Biafran soldiers and left to die. He was able to get himself, in his bad shape, to the roadside before collapsing. Luckily for him, a humanitarian convoy which was passing by spotted him and cleaned him up. They were on their way to Lagos and they took him with them. It took him almost two years to fully recover from his broken ribs and almost severed left leg. But his heart never healed.