From School To Near Death- entry for SWC by @jerrybanfield

While growing up in Lagos, Nigeria, Life was fun.

Played street football, danced in the rain and took turns to play Daddy and Mummy with our fellow kids.

A new day brought a new hope, I thought I was going to live ever after.

I was in kindergarten 3, a 5year old promising chap full of life.

My parents took turns in taking me to school in their old rickety BMW car.

On this fateful day, Dad and Mum were going for an occasion and would back before the school closes for the day.

My Parents took me to school that morning.

I felt so loved.

Mama and Papa taking me to school☺.

My Mama gave me a peck while father advised me to be of good behavior in school before they handed me over to my teacher, Aunty Kemi.

My ever doting parents🤭.

The Jingles of the bell signalling that we could go home brought much delight to me.

I waited anxiously for Mama and Papa but none came.

I was visibly afraid with the sky going dark.

Moon coming to take the place of sun.

My class teacher was angry and repulsive.

 *"O! Why will this small brat still keep me in school by this time"*

Sensing the unbecoming attitude of Aunty Kemi, I went outside beside the gate, hoping to catch a glimpse of daddy's car.

Praying for the night sullen sky not to catch up with me.

I saw my teacher, Aunty kemi go home.

She didn't see me.

Maybe she thought I would have gone home.

But how can I go home when am just a 5year old boy, new in the neighborhood and got enrolled in that school just a week ago.

Do Papa and Mama love me no more?

Are they tired of my stubborn attitude and decided to punish me by not coming to pick me up from school? 

Different thoughts came to my mind demanding for attention that I didn't know when I started crying.

Tears flowed down my cheeks with such heavy downpour that an handkerchief wouldn't have mopped it all.

A good Samaritan's sympathy would have worked wonders and it did work wonders.

Hey! Little boy why are you crying?

I told them that am waiting for my parents to come pick me up from school.

Two men alighted from a car, came to pet and told me my parents said they should bring me home.

I felt very happy😊

At last they have forgiven me.

I joined them in their car little wonder I didn't think twice with the joy fully radiating my person.

They switched on the car's engine and the journey of no return started.

The driver kept driving, the environment becoming totally unfamiliar, the sky becoming darker.

A new type of fear engulfed my being.

I asked in my innocence

"Uncle where are you taking me to, my parents don't live here?"

And preying on my innocence they replied

" You told us they travelled and we are taking you to where they are".

I felt relaxed and slept off.

Who wouldn't after a long tiring day.

Hey, wake up, your parents are waiting.

I jumped up from my sleep not able to recognize the environment.

We walked a little and what I saw sent shivers down my spine.

Little kids about my age being slaughtered right before my very eyes by one man called Baba.

I wanted to scream, a hand held my mouth.

Someone so strong and powerful and I was gagged and  my limbs tied.

I was introduced to Baba as the new sacrifice.

They were being slaughtered like chickens.

We were maltreated and starved.

Eating became a luxury we couldn't afford every day.

We were not kidnapped so that our parents will pay ransom and we will get our freedom.

We were kidnapped, killed and body parts dismembered.

The fear, the gory nature of the place and the constant reminder that soon it will be my turn made me turn into a solemn monk.

The sufferings I passed through, I only but wished of death as Socrates said, "Death may be the greatest of all human blessings".

Hey you, carry him inside.

After was seem like an eternity, it was finally my turn.

O! What a better way to die as Shendan Kwoles wrote in "True unto Death"

Now death is death!

And yet is not one death.

Another death!

Stabbing is not the same as shooting!

Would you say a strangled man was drowned?

The end is one, the means are many, and there the difference lies.

Why should I die this way!

O Lord, why!

I kept asking myself in the sanity of my mind as I came face to face with Baba.

Baba pierced my thumb with a big needle and poured a little of my blood in a local pot and told them that am not appropriate for the sacrifice and I should be returned to the place I was picked up from or any other place I will know.

That something is just not right and should they go ahead and use me, there will be trouble.

I was dropped in front of my school by 5am the next day still putting on my uniform while asleep.

My headmistress saw me sleeping in front of the school gate, was shocked.

She took me to her office, bought food for me and changed my clothes.

They were really messy.

The headmistress took me home and I got to know my parents had a terrible accident and were rushed to the hospital while returning from the wedding they went for in Ogun state earlier in the day.

O you have forgotten about my teacher Aunty, she was arrested and I don't know what became of her.

Here I am today almost a medical doctor but that would have been impossible assuming I wasn't freed.

I never dreamt I will still be alive till this day submitting my article for this contest and these I will never forget in the words of Shendan Kwoles "The end is one, the means are many, and there the difference lies".

I will love to die a natural and peaceful 

#Non Fiction

Word count: 1030

Image Source: Pixabay.com