Survival - by Eyi-Ojotule Abigail Gabriel

You left your house thinking you would find a haven free from trauma. You wanted a home You wanted where you can sleep with both eyes closed even without a lamp by your bedside But... The reverse became the case. There was no home in life! Home comes at your last breath. It was a time where unity,faith , peace and progress became division,fear,chaos and downswing of everything good. It was a one where home became an abattoir,a slaughter house where even the spiders quit from their webs and cockroaches on a temple run without being chased by anything but the unknown. How much more humans who were the actual preys? Everyone had a green garment in the day to blend with the grasses incase of disaster. They were black coats at night to blend with the darkness during catastrophe. It was a colossal problem in the universe. There was no hope for mankind Life was a hell of torment. In the day, everyone imagine how useful Thier ladders will be placed on the fence for excape A pocket knife became as though,a lipgloss in the purse of ladies:a new companion. The trousers of men were ironed by machetes hidden underneath. Acid were purchased more. Everyone practiced combat skills in their dreams and every sound made the heart skip seven beats in a second. Food tasted like death meals. Life became a real competition where no one wanted to give up. You remember tote childhood memories of insecurity where father led everyone for an uncompleted building with the help of the moon. You remembered seeing the fear in mum's eyes and tears of your little sibling. No student could study anymore. Education was a lost cause. Life wasn't worth living anymore. All this memories gone along with the wind and the past sped back . They returned to antagonise your mind. You hoped you won't fall under the anointing of the bullets flying around as you ran. "Tell your loved ones goodbye and run for your life''was the policy .By midnight,father was gone. By evening,elder sister was nowhere to be seen. People wished they won't wake up when they slept. No one feared the snakes in the forest or wildlife therein. They feared what was outside it. The desert became a guest Inn. Holes were dig to safeguard newborns by a burial on the day of their birth. Prayers became whispers but fear rose like an incense apparent to the nose and sight. Loving families made signs on trees wherever they passed for their loved ones to find them It was the regime of terrorism. Some covetous thieves still had time to plunder. Every night in the forest,you get a new neighbour. You could still hear the stories of rape where females were molested by vile men in their hiding place. And when you cried ,there was no salvage Troup coming to save you Cries were like anthems sung daily in solidarity to the new regime. Green white green became red black red. Our troubles were nameless and out fears faceless"You should be to cry'' some one would whisper behind your ears Everyone lived like ghosts,docile and invisible. Even a rotten fruit found in the ground was fought for by mother and kids. Everyone lost sanity and dignity. Dead bodies multiplied daily line grains of sand on the seashore. It was either suicide, homicide or any. Everyone's hands dripped blood as they tried to live. Mother had that of her child and when she was asked why, she'll say"I killed him to live''.That was her comfort. It was no longer the survival of the fittest but the survival of the grace.

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