Margaret Chinaza

Nigeria

Glimpses of Black and White

I recall that particular day, flashes of burning flesh and the thick smell of iron in the blood that was spilled on the brown sand.

That day Mother dressed so well, so sure today would be her biggest sale for the month. Her wrapper tied tightly, the waist purse hidden beneath her underwear. On my head were the foodstuffs we would sell.

Opening the market with a prayer, she greeted Aboki and Iya, her fellow market traders. Aboki specialized in livestock, and Iya in exotic Kano fibers and leathers.

They all interacted freely in Hausa, they have been her friends since we relocated here.

But all that changed in a nick of a time. Tension arose, due to the arrival of a southern politician, I wasn’t that vast in politics, mother didn’t care about politics.

The language of masses was mainly survival.

The upheaval from the West of the market alerted us, as we sighted the doom approaching us.

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere, some northerners took their cutlasses. I was happy they were going to fight it out with the enemies approaching.

Not until Aboki came and slashed Mother’s back with his cutlass.