Written by 3:43 pm Essays

To be Bitten by Ants.

Some people leave early and some late. To smoke in my room is to let the early sun beat my skin. I was once bitten by soldier ants on Christmas day when I was four, we went to my father’s village for Christmas and we took pictures, I climbed an orange tree to get the ripe orange and got stung by ants. My body was scrubbed with water and sugar and palm oil and soap…I was naked and I cried and cried.

I thought opening the windows will let the smoke out but it instead blew it to the corridor. I knew because two Russians met me and begged for a smoke and said that every morning they perceived the smell of weed, opposite my room. I gave them a joint and started to smoke occasionally downstairs. Because I was afraid but of whom?

Life is a movie, ten years ago I didn’t know that I will be here but I knew I was going to pursue a degree abroad. I told my cousin, Rose by the well when we fetched water at night or on Sundays, we promised each other we would study outside Nigeria and it was because we read a Jehovah’s Witness book that had preparations for studying abroad. The university in the picture was really cute and everyone was happy and I wanted that.

It is easy to be distracted, I always say this. It’s like going to a market with no list and even with a list we often bring back home something we didn’t plan to buy. I was in the north where I wasn’t supposed to be, plaqued with terrorism and my mother panicked for my safety. Rose, got pregnant in high school and went to live with the man and it broke me and my mother because we all thought she was loyal to us.

Maiduguri was a place plaque with Boko Haram, northern terrorism and bomb blew and killed people. I slept in Yobe when I was to resume university. On March 14th,2014 I left Abuja for Maiduguri and slept on my bed that I travelled with because Boko-Haram launched their highest attack yet. I purged all through the night because I ate noodles prepared by Mai shayi who filled it up with white maggi such that it made my stomach run. The pit toilet was a huge turnoff as my tenth attempt to use the latrine was unbearable. With every five Naira I paid to look at the toilet and go back, my stomach made so much noise to remind me that I needed to use the toilet.

People died we had in the morning and stray bullet killed students, I personally know a survivor who still finished her degree in Food Science Technology. These people have no choice, they can’t leave their land, no matter how bad it is. They have to school, farm, marry and procreate but the ones who love and sponsor this unrest will not allow the peaceful ones be-Pathetic.

No one know what these people are really fighting for but the United Nations kept and still pumps money to the north with the intention of helping.

Hotels are booked for years by light skinned people who worked in these different NGO’s to help the poor. Children still dying, many people still need help but haven’t been reached and one wonders how much money is spent and consumed trying to help and save people from dying from a terrorist organization that could be eradicated.

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