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Sunday, July 31, 2016

Story of the day(The day boko haram killed my brother)

By Onyinye Orabuike
The day started like any other until it was not.
My brother was an officer in the Nigerian Army
and everyday we prayed that he would survive.
He was my eldest and only brother, and had
stood in for both my parents since my mother
died 2 years ago. I was the youngest and never
knew my father.
First, my sister called and told me our brother's
latest assignment that put him face to face with
the terrorists and something was wrong. I
couldn't believe it and dialled my brother's line
immediately.
A stranger picked the call and told me he was
JTF officer. I told him I wanted to speak to the
owner of the phone and he hesitated.
Then he said; “Didn’t you hear what happened
to him?” he asked me.
“What happened to him?” I screamed at him,
but he dropped the phone.
My sister Chinwe called back again and told us
Aji was shot and wounded but was still alive
and that we should just be praying for him.
My husband called his line and I heard him
asking the officer repeatedly if it was fatal. He
ended the call and told me he was only injured.
It was mummy Victor, Aji’s wife that called
that night and told me the truth. She wanted to
know if I knew that bokoharam killed my
brother. I told her it was a lie and she said that
I could believe whatever I like, but that he died
at the spot and has been taken to the mortuary.
With those few words she tore my universe and
the sky caved.
It was sheer survival instinct that made me so
determined not to give in. I never fought for
anything in my life the way I fought for survival
in days following the day Aji was killed. I give
all the credit to God.
There were so many questions. It was painful
enough that my brother was dead, but
unbearable to imagine that someone actually
pulled a gun and killed my Hero, for no reason,
no reason whatsoever. We lost our mother
when I was just 14 but it wasn’t this painful.
There were so many questions but I was
determined not to ask any. I looked up to God
with tears in my eyes and he gave me comfort,
comfort, so much comfort. I asked God for just
two things, One, that I will always have his
spirit around me whenever I begin to miss him;
it just has to be possible somehow. Two, that I
should be granted the favour of beholding my
brother in paradise, the moment I breathe my
last.
Before this time I was not afraid of anything,
including death. I actually looked forward to
the day I will die. I had planned to serve him,
enjoy life and do whatever he wanted me to do
quickly so I could be free to die by say age 45
or 50. I didn’t want get as old as to become
unproductive and dependent on other people, it
would so boring and I didn’t want that.
If God, who alone know what Aji meant to
me, in his infinite wisdom thought it right to
take him and leave me alive , then that purpose
for which he wanted me alive must be real
important to him, and I became determined to
stay alive , fulfil destiny so that when I die and
get to heaven, seeing Aji again would be for me
a deserving reward.
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