These Unending African Wars
The wars. They find us; The African Wars, they haunt us and never seem to go away.
Like many people around the world, we just want to go about our business. Take care of our families. Love and be loved in return.
Like most children, we crave peace, a loving family, food, and shelter.
As children, all we want to do is run outside, play catch, and football, and go to school.
Dance to the beats of the African drums. Or to the beats of any drum that stirs our rhythm.
Sit under a tree on a moonlit night. Play moonlight games. Listen to stories and folklore from an elder about our ancestry. Our origins, our beginnings.
Sometimes be mischievous, chase after the neighbor's dog, climb up his mango tree, and pluck a handful without permission. Other times just be a good kid, help a cat down the tree, giggling with the twinkle in our eyes. Help out at home, doing house chores and homework in between. And be at peace.
However, no matter how much we try, wars still find us. These unending African wars!
They wreak havoc on our small simple world. And like a midnight robber, snatch our childhood from us.
Taking away loved ones, splitting families, and leaving big holes in our hearts, wider than the RPGs (rocket-propelled grenades) leave on the ground. We are physically battered, brokenhearted, and Hungry!
Food is scarce during the war the children and the elderly suffer the most.
As children, all we want to do is run outside, play catch, and football, and go to school.
Dance to the beats of the African drums. Or to the beats of any drum that stirs our rhythm.
Sit under a tree on a moonlit night. Play moonlight games. Listen to stories and folklore from an elder about our ancestry. Our origins, our beginnings.
Sometimes be mischievous, chase after the neighbor's dog, climb up his mango tree, and pluck a handful without permission. Other times just be a good kid, help a cat down the tree, giggling with the twinkle in our eyes. Help out at home, doing house chores and homework in between. And be at peace.
However, no matter how much we try, wars still find us. These unending African wars!
They wreak havoc on our small simple world. And like a midnight robber, snatch our childhood from us.
Taking away loved ones, splitting families, and leaving big holes in our hearts, wider than the RPGs (rocket-propelled grenades) leave on the ground. We are physically battered, brokenhearted, and Hungry!
Food is scarce during the war the children and the elderly suffer the most.
I just finished reading Ishmael Beah's book "A long way gone- memoirs of a boy soldier"
I followed Beah on his journey in search of peace, sometimes sleeping in dark eerie forests by himself.
Trying his very best to chase away hunger and the rebels in Sierra Leone.
He lost his best friend, his brother, and his whole family! And every day his humanity slowly slipped away. As he died small deaths each day.
On a constant run to escape the rebels who burnt down villages, and killed civilians with reckless abandon.
Not even women and children were spared, as girls were raped and little boys were forced to carry Ak-47 guns taller than their small frames.
Often branded with the letters RUF (Revolutionary United Front) on their forearms or anywhere else the Rebels fancied.
The government forces were also guilty, little 9 and 10 year old were left no choice but to become boy soldiers. Initiated into the use of drugs, cocaine, and brown-brown, (a mixture of cocaine and gun powder) by adults.
I can relate to Ishmael, for the war has touched me too. These unending African wars.
Soon after I was born, a war broke out in my home country -Nigeria.
The Nigeria/ Biafra war - July 6, 1967, to January 15, 1970. 30 months of hell!
I followed Beah on his journey in search of peace, sometimes sleeping in dark eerie forests by himself.
Trying his very best to chase away hunger and the rebels in Sierra Leone.
He lost his best friend, his brother, and his whole family! And every day his humanity slowly slipped away. As he died small deaths each day.
On a constant run to escape the rebels who burnt down villages, and killed civilians with reckless abandon.
Not even women and children were spared, as girls were raped and little boys were forced to carry Ak-47 guns taller than their small frames.
Often branded with the letters RUF (Revolutionary United Front) on their forearms or anywhere else the Rebels fancied.
The government forces were also guilty, little 9 and 10 year old were left no choice but to become boy soldiers. Initiated into the use of drugs, cocaine, and brown-brown, (a mixture of cocaine and gun powder) by adults.
I can relate to Ishmael, for the war has touched me too. These unending African wars.
Soon after I was born, a war broke out in my home country -Nigeria.
The Nigeria/ Biafra war - July 6, 1967, to January 15, 1970. 30 months of hell!
There was a genocide against an ethnic group that agitated for independence- the Igbos.
They took up arms and declared secession.
So while most toddlers were learning to crawl, walk and talk in their peaceful homes.
I learned the additional lesson, of diving to the ground, for cover to avoid death by the Nigerian army air raids.
And my first words were "Take cover"
Although I do not remember so much. A couple of events are emblazoned in my memory.
They took up arms and declared secession.
So while most toddlers were learning to crawl, walk and talk in their peaceful homes.
I learned the additional lesson, of diving to the ground, for cover to avoid death by the Nigerian army air raids.
And my first words were "Take cover"
Although I do not remember so much. A couple of events are emblazoned in my memory.
I remember the death of my uncle- dad's youngest brother Isikaku, who did not dive to the ground quick enough, during an air raid and was blown into smithereens.
I do not remember how hungry I was, but Dad assured me, there were many hungry days.
He tells a particular story about how I went to the storage bowl, where the Garri (refined product of Cassava- Farina) the staple food was kept, and found it was empty. I let out a wail and sobbed uncontrollably.
There was no food in the house. Fortunately, he was the commander at a refugee camp. So he was able to get a ration later in the day.
He talked about the specially packaged formula meals, children were given for nourishment.
I do not remember how hungry I was, but Dad assured me, there were many hungry days.
He tells a particular story about how I went to the storage bowl, where the Garri (refined product of Cassava- Farina) the staple food was kept, and found it was empty. I let out a wail and sobbed uncontrollably.
There was no food in the house. Fortunately, he was the commander at a refugee camp. So he was able to get a ration later in the day.
He talked about the specially packaged formula meals, children were given for nourishment.
I first heard of the disease Kwashiorkor from him as a kid, before I read about it in school.
Many children died. Not from gunshots or the RPGs but from hunger and malnutrition.
No, I was not a girl soldier, but there were boy soldiers in Biafra.
So these African wars continue. The unending wars. They find us. They haunt us and never seem to go away.
In 1991, I met a young man. A Liberian refugee in Lagos. He told me his story, a story that broke my heart as do all the war stories.
Clive (not his real name) had found his way to Lagos from the refugee camp in Oru, Ogun state, and was desperately looking for a job, a means of sustenance.
A way to gain back some of his independence. Some form of normalcy.
Many children died. Not from gunshots or the RPGs but from hunger and malnutrition.
No, I was not a girl soldier, but there were boy soldiers in Biafra.
So these African wars continue. The unending wars. They find us. They haunt us and never seem to go away.
In 1991, I met a young man. A Liberian refugee in Lagos. He told me his story, a story that broke my heart as do all the war stories.
Clive (not his real name) had found his way to Lagos from the refugee camp in Oru, Ogun state, and was desperately looking for a job, a means of sustenance.
A way to gain back some of his independence. Some form of normalcy.
He was biracial, and his brown skin was ashen and sallow. His eyes are sunken. He was painfully thin, and his clothes hung ill-fitting on him. But he had a smile. A very sad smile that did not reach his eyes.
His dad had been a minister in Samuel Doe's government and when the rebels struck, his parents were killed at their home.
He managed to escape and found his way to a Nigerian ship and was transported from Monrovia to Lagos.
He was one of the lucky few. Clive escaped the war in Liberia before it stole his humanity.
He did not have all his documents and although his mum was German, the German embassy in Lagos was having trouble processing his papers for asylum in Germany.
He walked into my office that hot afternoon. He had a job interview in Gongola. Somewhere in Northern Nigeria, he needed some money for transport.
My colleague and I managed to raise some funds for him. And wished him well.
A year later Clive walked back into my office to say "Thank you" He was now a working man and had found a part of himself again. He was an engineer.
His dad had been a minister in Samuel Doe's government and when the rebels struck, his parents were killed at their home.
He managed to escape and found his way to a Nigerian ship and was transported from Monrovia to Lagos.
He was one of the lucky few. Clive escaped the war in Liberia before it stole his humanity.
He did not have all his documents and although his mum was German, the German embassy in Lagos was having trouble processing his papers for asylum in Germany.
He walked into my office that hot afternoon. He had a job interview in Gongola. Somewhere in Northern Nigeria, he needed some money for transport.
My colleague and I managed to raise some funds for him. And wished him well.
A year later Clive walked back into my office to say "Thank you" He was now a working man and had found a part of himself again. He was an engineer.
There was Rwanda, Angola, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Mozambique, Chad, and Mali are still unfolding, There is Congo, Darfur Sudan has not quite ended. These Unending African wars.
There are no winners in a war. Everyone suffers, and the scars are borne for eternity.
There are no winners in a war. Everyone suffers, and the scars are borne for eternity.
The emotional and mental scars lie deeper than the physical ones. The memories may fade but never go away. Across the continent, the wars continue. They break out and rip our hearts from our chests every time.
What is the genesis? Who profits from these wars, and were ordinary Africans suffer?
Constantly stripped of their humanity and left vulnerable. Like the millions of dead bodies left for the vultures to feast. It is the children the weakest in our society, who suffer the most.
What is the genesis? Who profits from these wars, and were ordinary Africans suffer?
Constantly stripped of their humanity and left vulnerable. Like the millions of dead bodies left for the vultures to feast. It is the children the weakest in our society, who suffer the most.
Do African leaders have a clue? a blueprint to prevent wars or nip situations that would lead to one in the bud?
Do they even care? or concerned for the welfare of the ordinary citizens except lining their pockets with the commonwealth. Can we the people, find an answer to end these wars?
Do they even care? or concerned for the welfare of the ordinary citizens except lining their pockets with the commonwealth. Can we the people, find an answer to end these wars?
The African Union just celebrated 50 years anniversary.
50 years of misrule and betrayal of the children and the people.
No need to pop the champagne and clink glasses!
We are a long way from home, and the journey to peace has not quite begun.
We cannot rest on our oars until every African nation is at peace. All 54 of them.
50 years of misrule and betrayal of the children and the people.
No need to pop the champagne and clink glasses!
We are a long way from home, and the journey to peace has not quite begun.
We cannot rest on our oars until every African nation is at peace. All 54 of them.
But wait! See who is talking! I fled the continent, running from war, the other kind of war
The Economic war! What are my contributions to the continent? The remittance?
Is that enough? Well not everyone can be on the front lines, in the trenches. I console myself.
Some of us, are so tired of the wars and crave some peace, no matter how little.
I am tired, so tired of even talking about them These wars never seem to go away
The Economic war! What are my contributions to the continent? The remittance?
Is that enough? Well not everyone can be on the front lines, in the trenches. I console myself.
Some of us, are so tired of the wars and crave some peace, no matter how little.
I am tired, so tired of even talking about them These wars never seem to go away
These unending African wars!
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