• Story Number: 1/196
• Date: Wed 20 Jan 2010 14:35

I grew up in Benin but i saw the tail end of the war.My Parents had to leave Zaria when the
killings became too much.I remember my mother telling us of how Ibos were killed in front of
our House in Zaria. She was almost killed too bc she is light skinned. they thought she was Ibo
until she spoke her language,Yoruba. I remember then in Benin that we would always 'Take
cover' under our beds anytime we heard a Plane pass because we lived near the Airport.it was
very traumatic for us then. But we thank God that all of that is over, Thank you Chimamanda
for a beautiful story!!!!!!

• Tonia
• Nigeria

• Story Number: 2/196
• Date: Wed 06 Jan 2010 15:29

I was only but 6 years the only male child of my parents with three sisters before me. I
have some biafran stories but I will share just this one. I was in my father's ancestral
home playing under a mango tree and then there was an air raid I saw what fighter planes
descend so low and were destroying homes: My father ran towards the mango tree dragged me and
picked me up ran in into the yam garden in the compound he through me into a grove and shielded
me with his massive frame and right from under his side i could see the pilots of the planes
and I could see spews of fire off the planes. I could see the pilots were foreign white
skinned! Later that that we heard that two most prominent houses in the village were
destroyed; one of the houses belonged to a lady called Grace and another famous family's house
was destroyed: seemed like these two homes were targeted to be destroyed. I can't recall how
many people died. The fear I felt that and the smell from that event has stayed with me
forever. Even 40 + years later. Ed, Nigeria

• Ed Muo
• Nigeria

• Story Number: 3/196
• Date: Fri 25 Dec 2009 10:55

conceived during the war, i am the only soul to witness images of the war as i gestated in my
mama's belly until my deliverance into the world in august 1970.

• ugochukwu michael nw
• Nigeria

• Story Number: 4/196
• Date: Mon 09 Nov 2009 04:23

While the air raid continued laying lines of exploding bombs like new year festive fireworks to
celebrate the annihilation of the Igbo race, the village was almost empty. Most villagers
started early and had managed to retreive the little they could carry and ran, abandoning the
rest to the enthusiastic invading Nigerian soldiers. This the story of my family and me and the
Igbo race. I said so because I was there. Read all the stories with my name on it as I cannot
post more than 2000 characters bellow this as one one story.

• EJIOFOR ALISIGWE
• United Kingdom

• Story Number: 5/196
• Date: Mon 09 Nov 2009 04:15

The bombs and shellings were lethal and unforgiving. Both Akudiye and little Chidinma did not
stand a chance as they were slice in two and wriggled along like hedious earthworms before
silence. The stamped behind scattered rather than scooping them up in empty basins but people
had their belongings in them as they hurried and ran towards Nkoto village. At first, earlier
in the day, we had watched with total amazement as proccessions of villagers trooped past our
house carrying their belongings, chickens with legs tied together, goats on leads while most
dogs mysteriously disappeared, all heading towards Nkoto village. Papa said it was ridiculous
for them to even contemplate such a thing to happen so soon to our village but forgetting that
our village is a vital junction which the Nigerians would love to capture and occupy. By now,
the glaring sun had retreated behind the Ikpankwu hills and the blood of the dead- obara ndi
egburu egbu-Mama would say, painted the scotched crimson sky translucent and drifted along like
molten lava towards the horizon on the range. The cacophony of the guns, shellings and bombs
very quickly enveloped us and caught Papa unprepared and confused. He ran into their bedroom
and back to the parlour not knowing what best to take from his posseessions before the
Nigerians arrived. He ran back in and stooped to take hold of Mama's large and chunky heavy oak
box and yelled because he could hadly shift it. He came back out to the parlour and gave my
younger sibbling and me instructions to run towards Nkoto village amid the defeaning explotions
and whistling and whining of bullets.

• EJIOFOR ALISIGWE
• United Kingdom

• Story Number: 6/196
• Date: Mon 09 Nov 2009 04:13

Although I was only a child, but I felt sorry for Papa while he stood there staring at the
gramaphone, cushions, enlarged pictures on the walls, the beds, utensils, everthing that he
owned about to go to waste as it would be looted and vandalised once again by the invading
exited Nigerians, but this time in his very own village, not Minna where he had escaped from
during the days of Oso Araba. I 'm not sure Papa could hear the huge racket whizing outside as
he stood there rigid and helpless. He was remembering how he had sent the family back to the
East as rumours spread about a planned massacre of Ndiigbo and Papa lost evrything as it
happened. He has been hugely traumatized ever since, although Papa is a quiet man in nature but
you could tell that he is different and you don't need to look closely to see that. His face
told you a thousand stories wether tragic or serio-comic depends on your personal
interpretations. After we escaped the slaughter in the North and resettled in our village,
Papa, like he is wont to, threw his palpitating breath into farming and quasi-shopkeeping.
Things picked up before long as Papa threw himself into it like there was no tomorrow and yet
again papa had re-esterblished his status, although it never really left him because he remains
a rallying point in important issues in the village. Within those few months, we would only
cook Uncle Bens rice on sundays as he could afford it and he farmed, traded and worked hard
from dawn to dusk without shame for that.

• EJIOFOR ALISIGWE
• United Kingdom

• Story Number: 7/196
• Date: Mon 09 Nov 2009 04:11

Perhaps, he might have started dreaming again with much confidence because he was in his
village where he would take the fruit of his labour with all seriousness without having doubts
of his safety and that of his business. Suddenly, he became happy for his new country and safe
haven. Suddenly Biafra became a new meaning to him. Suddenly, Biafra became Safety to Papa.
From then onwards, Papa walks about and did everything grinning like he knew and understood
some very important secrets nobody else did until now, while he stood in the parlour
speechless. I ran with Uwa my younger brother down the slope to Afondu Market because we lived
on a hill. Unlike nowadays, there were no dual expressroads through the market then and
villagers ran helter-skelter in toltal confusion. As we came down Ohiaekwensu, I reminded Uwa
where we were and made sure he did not fall down along the stony stretch of the Evil Forest.
Before the war, Uwa had stubbed his toe against a stone and fell at a spot along the forest on
our way back from visiting our aunty, first cousins and nieces at Nkoto village and he had to
lay sprawled on the stony ground of Ohiaekwensu while my elder brother ran to nearby Afondu
market to seek help from an Nkoto origin who would come to Uwa's rescue and lift him up from
the sacred ground. It is only the people of Nkoto who were qualified to perform such tasks and
rituals because they were chosen and ordained by the gods. It is also rumoured that some
children who were up to no good would get what they want by threatening their parents they
would take a dive when they get to the long stony stretch of Ohiaekwensu. The story of Nwadiuto
persisted but no one had any proof to show whether it were true or not.

• EJIOFOR ALISIGWE
• United Kingdom

• Story Number: 8/196
• Date: Mon 09 Nov 2009 04:09

The highly stubborn Nwadiuto had threaten her parents with a fall because she wouldn't get what
she wanted from them. She stood with a devilish grin well away from the reach of his father who
had a huge log of wood on his head and her mother with a basket of cassava repeating her
threats. She was bent at an akward stlant with her right hand stretched towards the sacred
ground." A gakwam ada ugbua"! I am going to fall now! Eh, agam ada. Yes, I will
fall."Noooooooooo! yelled her terrified parents in unison. A hot spurt of urine shot from
her father's penis and he was glad he wore black shorts to hide the shame."Well, if you
are not going to give it to me I fall". Now!"Chukwu nna! Wailed her mother, this girl
will be the death of me". Chei! Mmmmhn. And so, it happened, because it's forbidden for
anybody to put down their load along the path of the evil forest of Ohiaekwensu the father had
no choice but give Nwadiuto all the crickets they digged up in the farm. As we came down the
slope to the valley of Obodo stream and waded through it, we came up the jagged slope to Mbara
Okpo which snuggled between Iyi Obodo and Nkoto village where no sane children or youths would
like to be, particularly around that time of day, a shrapnel whizzed by me and burried itself
in the shoulder of a naked village boy who accelerated up the winding path screaming. Mbara
Okpo constitutes a small square legendary for congregations of wily juvenile ghosts who thought
it was funny to watch youths crumble under their stunning cracks delivered on the sensitive
part of the head with the home made knuckledusters they improvised. These recalcitrant
delinquent ghosts revels on mischieves, particularly against truant youths who skips school and
loiters under the Udara tree in high noon.

• EJIOFOR ALISIGWE
• United Kingdom

• Story Number: 9/196
• Date: Mon 09 Nov 2009 04:07

These hoody ghosts would compete among themselves to prove their rascality and would therefore
bet against one another to wager who gives the most stunning cracks on the heads of the
offending youths. And so it happened that one of them- who happend to be a hardcore as it were-
succeeded in knocking Ike out who unfortunately did not realised that the wily ghosts had made
a bet on him that day, he fainted immidiately despite his reputed sledge hammer head which
their teacher had earlier gave as a reason why Ike was not bright therefore would find it
difficult to "break a chalk". And fortunately for Ike, but he didn't know it at the
time, the champion little rascal ghost was called home by his mother to run an errand before he
could finish him off, and that was why Ike was found sprawled under the cool Udara tree barely
alife. From then on, nobody, not even the adults would walk alone past Mbara Okpo which means,
square of crack-knock or square of punch, and the legend still lives on to this date. The loud
fusillade of bombings, rockets, shellings and heavy artillery continued unabated till dark. We
were later told that the Nigerians were afraid of the Ndi Dinta who would hide in unforgivable
places to shoot them down with their Dane guns before the Nigerians would react and, so they
came up with the idea of bombarding the place thoroughly before venturing into the area. That
was why Papa said that the Nigerians didn't want us but want to take our our land because we
would have stayed behind at home and not run but Papa said they would kill us all.

• EJIOFOR ALISIGWE
• United Kingdom

• Story Number: 10/196
• Date: Mon 09 Nov 2009 04:03

We realised how hopeless it was when we arrived Nkoto village at Papa's younger sister's house
and saw that they had already gone and there will not be any sleeping over as we would before
the war. We headed to our farm at Ikpa Nkoto as Papa instructed and waited there while the rest
of the family arrived lost in amidst the cassava and yam. Little words were spoken as we sat,
huddled together, bound by hopeless fear and the will to survive. Nobody wanted to say a word
and sound out of tune, therefore nobody said anything as we stole glances at each other,
perhaps looking for a tinge of betrayal to compound our present egregious predicament. Make a
fire...while I make us a shelter. The night is so dark. Papa said absently as he got up and
dissappeared into the night rustling in the bushes to cut palm fronds and tall grass for a make
shift shelter. We had no food as we soon realised because no one remembered to include food
when we escaped with mainly clothings and pots. Anyway, Papa thought it would be a flash in the
pan affair and that things would quickly return to normal as soon as the Biafran resilient
soldiers and Ndi Dinta militia threw a counter attack and recaptures our vital village from the
Nigerians. Papa was furious when we heared that it took the Nigerians three good days to
venture into our village to test the waters after all that shellings and bombings and a full
week to move in. Papa called it such "ignorant wastes and cowardice". A whole week! I
was only a child and did not understood the rules of engagement and the redumentaries of war. I
am proud Papa knew best.

• EJIOFOR ALISIGWE
• United Kingdom