“But, their people should be made to pay for their sins” Pa Karimu’s son Kekere answered back.”

“Our brothers fleeing Kano are running away from their shadows, we one.” Teacher Ajose opined. “No, we are not. Isn’t it because Em Kay O is Yoruba that is why the annulled it?”

“Why do we let politics divide us in this compound”. Mosun asked innocently. “You see, we have failed to learn the songs of oneness and even if we do, we don’t sing it with our whole hearts.” That night Mosun and I sang the song of oneness. Our voice became one and rose against the din of the chorus of rancor outside my door. When we reached the one cresecendo of our melody, we gazed into each other’s eyes and strained  our ears not listening to the confused voices outside, but perhaps to the little voice of oneness we had sown, who maybe shall be the one to teach us the words of the songs of oneness, of singing in concerted tones.

The night annulled itself into dawn, Mosun left early the next morning to Ketu to join Mama sikira where the family had gone to mourn a relation.

We were woken up by the shouts of the newly formed area militia. I recongnised most of the faces, they all had scars that were relics of past skirmishes, in the far corners of the compound were Adigun ‘Paraga’, Semiu ‘No nonsense’ held a dane gun, brandishing it with abandon, while sunny ‘Daga’ was a walking collection of cutlasses. Kilango, the lead singer of the belligerent songs I feared most. He got his name from his murderous tendencies; the neighbourhood could count of how many knife and bottle fights he was not part of. The zigzag of the scars on his face, were the prove of his famed immortality. As he stepped forward to address us. His Oriki dissolved the tension momentarily “Even sharp hom, know who carved am, even sharp knife know en go stab, you no dey fear police, go Mushin go Isale Eko, dem know u, even trouble dey fear am”

The scowled faces had taken up all the available spaces within the middle of the tenement rows; the smelly gutter that ran though the length of the compound was the least of their concerns. A film of thoughts formed a montage in my mind, should I have taken flight to Wukari after the butchering of the cows at the abattoir, or perhaps I should have gone with Mosun to her Aunty in llaro. The consequences of my inaction had at this moment nestled in the hands of Kilango. He mounted the rostrum; it was Nurse Theresa’s centre table. His voice cords thundered out “Actualize!” over a hundred voices boomed back “June 12!” he turned left, and then right slowly, the veins in his neck stretching tautly his chest also heaving and falling. He blared once more “June 12”, and they chorused, “Actualize!”

               We must actualize “June 12”, Na our turn, we must rule, we go rule. He went on and on almost how the cause must not be abandoned; how we should all form a band of bond against the usurpers of the process.

            Fifteen more minutes, later it was all over, they left in their wake several layers of muddy prints, broken buckets, and trampled clothes from fallen clotheslines.

            This was followed eight heady days of rioting. Until one of the General’s Hench men was sent to the city to rest the volatile unrest. His armoured tanks and life bullet shells subdued the annulment riots. This didn’t stop the exodus out of the city, or to places like Idi Araba.

            I had known those who wanted me alive by this time. Mama Sikira had told the local militia that I lived amongst them. Not only that, but that I have sown a seed in her daughter Mosun. Teacher Ajose was my chief protector; I fed from his bachelor meals at night, and listened to the analysis of events. “They have tied themselves with a long rope, they shan’t succeed this time around, like Achebe said “We should not accept restrictions to our thinking …

            He jumped up and ransacked his shelf of books and hurriedly took out a hard cover bounded book Anthills of the savannah by Chinua Achebe”.

“You see Idrissi, literature is prophetic. Achebe wrote everything that is happening now in this book! You must read it idrissi”. Then he lapsed into a deep silence; it was broken by Pa Karimu’s knock. “Good evening to you young men, turn on the radio quick” They said Em Kay O has declared himself president.

I rushed towards teacher Ajose’s transistor radio; static with a classical music background filled the room. The voice tore through the night air tearing my heart in pain. Mosun shouted my name in one breath.

“He is in there!” mains Sikira shouted. Pa Karimu stood up his wrapper almost falling. Teacher Ajose’s eyes burned fiercely, his hairs standing on end. He gritted has teeth. “traitor! Woman traitor” the word came out of his gritted teeth.

His small frame could not stop the force upon the door when it came. Hefty hands lifted him and threw him across the room, crashing him against his shelf of books and ideas. I could see Pa karimu’s frail hands attempting to stop them. The men that reached for me I knew, for I had bough them several derrica of rice in the past. Torino and Sapiko lifted me and threw me against the wall. I was kicked in the head, in the belly, everywhere. I heard Mosun’s wail, mingled with Rahila’s dumb whisperings. Nurse Theresa’s, and a voice I couldn’t fathom wailed too. Pa Karimu’s curse and Teacher Ajose’s tantrums provided the voice over for the wails. The night was filled with a harmony of pain. They must have been over a hundred of them. My screams became lauder as the slaps changed from hands to cutlass blades. I screamed fiercely as each smack cut into a flesh here and burrowed deep there. With my last ounce of strength, before I floated into nothingness I shouted, in the face of my of my tormentors “But I voted for him too!”.