NO VICTOR, NO VANQUISH

JULY 6, 1967 (NIGERIA)

BANG !

Emeka sprung to his feet at the loud sound. Confused, he stared blankly into the air. The village is in chaos, not only could he feel it but also see it. Wails from adults and children filled the air and questions occupied his mind as he couldn't even recall the cause of his unconsciousness. He took few steps out of the bush where he had been lying, into the street and what he hit him was eyesore. Bodies lay, scattered all over the street with blood running down like streams. There were people, out of fear running, in search of places to take cover. Tears rolled down Emeka's cheeks as his sleeping memories were awoken.

The war has began !

His kick against their decision has earned him a name, the name that every youth in the village hated to be called_ ' A weakling '. But if being a weakling means no bloodshed, Emeka felt ever ready to be called one forever.

Not knowing where to turn to, to be safe, he stood, rooted to the ground with his hands pressed hard against his aching head and his eyes, shut tight.

" Emeka " , Chinedu, his best friend ran up to him, panting heavily, " what are you still doing here ?"

" What is happening ? ", Fear danced in Emeka's eyes, " don't tell me it's what I'm thinking ".

Emeka's eyes fell upon the weapons in Chinedu's hands and slowly, he took a step backwards and another and another_

" There's no time, my friend ", Chinedu walked briskly up to him, thrusting a gun into his hands " we have to fight for our freedom ".

" I'm not in bondage, I was never in chains ".

" Only women run, Emeka, a real man never runs ".

" He who runs live to fight another day ".

This is a common saying among his people but why they call a running man a coward, Emeka couldn't understand. He could be called a coward for all the he cares, but to lift a gun against a fellow human, that he wouldn't do.

Slowly the gun slipped off his hands as he took another step backwards_

" Your people need you ", Chinedu shook his head, seeing Emeka's reluctant attitude, " your Father awaits you, Emeka ".

Emeka's ears were shut to his call. As fast as he could, he fled into the bush along with others, away from his people, from the land of his birth.

JULY, 1980 (NIGERIA)

Ten years of rest and it felt like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed. The wrinkled faces had already worn back its smiles and the village had retrieved its peaceful aura_ just like nothing happened.

Emeka halted, taking a quick look at the village once more. For a moment, he felt like he was the only one with no memory loss. Every night, the image from the civil war kept haunting him. Never has it for once faded from his memory. He heard the war had lasted for three years, that means three years of kilings, three years of turmoil. How could they I've thought that he would be a party to that ?

I'm just a weakling.

He hung his head and walked on, lifting his big shoulder bag and throwing it, again upon his shoulder, wearied from its weight.

Attention was soon drawn to him. There were elders with peering eyes, figuring out who he was.

It was evident in their faces: 'The coward finally returns home ', But no one would say it to his face. As Emeka walked on, they tagged along like a tail. He was no way surprised, because this is what they always do, the women and children ; feed their eyes, work their mouth and relieve their hearts.

Soon, he arrived at a large compound, fenced with bamboo sticks. He paused, wiping his sweaty palms on his oversized, black pants and tried to steady his trembling legs.

What if he rejects me ? He thought. His mother and siblings, he knew to be of no problem but his father_

Gently, he opened the bamboo gate and stepped in to find the whole family relaxing in the shade provided by the big, mango tree. Emeka suddenly wished he could fast forward this moment as silence overtook all, as they caught sight of him. He knew that would be impossible, so he'd have to feel whatever the moment brings, especially the bitterness from his father's cold stare that greeted him.

His heart began to beat so fast that he thought it would burst, but the sudden gush of tears and laughter that flowed from his mother and the shouts of joy from his siblings calmed his mind and happiness appeared within him.

Just then, the villagers came in happily. Though Emeka and his family knew what they came for, they thanked them all the same.

Everyone had a happy face on but for Emeka's father who maintained his cold look. Even Emeka falling at his feet in tears did not bring up a warm smile. This was more than enough for the people and one by one, just as they had came in, they left whispering among themselves.

He wanted to hug him, Papa wished to pull his son up from the floor and kiss him welcome but he couldn't. The fear of what the villagers might say gripped him that all he could do was mask his happy face with a cold one and look away from his first born son.

Nobody knew, and neither could they see that Papa was more than happy to have Emeka back home. The fact that Emeka was not in support of their decision to fight was what turned his anger against him and he had lived the past 13 years in regret filled thought that Emeka had ended up like his best friend, Chinedu, dead.

' Maybe this is what will make him change his mind to fight ', Papa thought and frowned still.

Tearfully, Mama pulled Emeka up and held him tight to her chest, in a warm embrace. This was what Emeka had longed for for the past thirteen years_

Home sweet home.

Emeka sat in silence as the whole family surrounded the fire later that evening.

" Papa said you are a coward, is that true ? ", Ufuoma, the youngest in the house took her seat beside Emeka.

" Let him alone, Ufuoma ", Mama looked in Papa's direction as he coughed slightly, she knew it was fake, " can't you see he's tired ?"

" You didn't do anything wrong ", Ufuoma continued, ignoring her mother, " I also would have run, if I were in your shoes ".

" That's because you are also a weakling ", Chinonso, her immediate elder brother chipped in, " A real man never runs ".

Ufuoma eyed him, even though she knew he wouldn't see through the night, dimly lit by the fire. One would think they were sworn enemies in their past lives for they never agree on anything.

" Papa and our elders are right ", Chinonso continued, " We cannot be joined to people who do not acknowledge us. All we asked for was our freedom but they refused us. How hard can it be to let us go ?"

" Why must there be blood shed ?" Ufuoma winced, " Aunty Nneka told me the story, it's horrible ".

" I wish that day would come again ".

" No! It won't ", Ufuoma rushed over to Mama, held her tight and sobbed, " i don't want it to come ".

" Yes, it will ", Emeka chuckled, " and I will fight, bold and strong_"

" Like the man that you are ", Papa's teeth was very much visible. No doubt, he was very happy.

" Like the man that I am ", Chinonso beat his chest hard.

Emeka looked the eight years old boy over and suddenly wished to have the courage he had. It was apparent Papa loved him because he took after him in bravery.

Does bravery really have to do with being able to use a machete on a fellow human ?

Emeka could only wonder.

The event, he knows is a period in the hearts of the innocent and the softhearted ones but a pause in the hearts of their leaders and fighters.

There was no good in it for the masses, Emeka knew and only the ones at the top would benefit from it.

A futile fight for want of power and wealth is what it is, for a head can not stand without its body. Emeka could only wish that they see the need for one another and work towards making the country great. But_ every hand has been raised against him, even his father's. His peace will never be complete, if Papa's back is still turned against him.

Emeka turned to the burning fire, hoping his fears would be caught up in its flames and courage be drawn out that he might feel his father's love once again.

He looked deep, deep into the fire but all he saw was_

A garment ripped apart, a fallen nation, countless bodies scattered all over, houses_splattered with blood and cries of anguish and pain carried by the wind.

Quickly, he shut his eyes tight and arose,

" Goodnight ", With that he dashed into the house.