Adaptation from the yet-to-be published novel, A SEASON OF THE SUN by Ahaoma Kanu
The hospital where I was assigned was constantly busy throughout the period of the attacks. Day after day, soldiers wounded in battle were brought over mainly by porters on foot with very few arriving on trucks, only a few made it on their own. The intensity of the war at that period made it impossible for the Red Cross to fly in their supplies which made us run out of stock.
The bandages got finished completely that we had no option than to remove already used bandages from patients that were older in the ward to be washed and used on fresh causalities. Three qualified and elderly nurses came over from Umuahia to help us out and another young doctor arrived from Orlu.
The constant arrival of the wounded, nearly dead and dead causalities made the added human resources unnoticed. Dr. Nwosu worked day and night; we worked during the day fear and uncertainty.
Many of the casualties that went into the surgery room were carried out dead because, at a time, operations were carried out without anaesthetic. The patients watched their shattered limbs and arms gruesomely cut off their body. This led to many of them dying of haemorrhage.
One night, I watched as a soldier carried in another wounded comrade, the wounded one was very elderly while the person that brought him was younger almost as young as me if not for his enhanced biceps. As I showed them a place to lay the wounded man down for me to administer first aid, my kit being river water and a small face towel with a length of bandage, I noticed the striking resemblance between the two soldiers; they were father and son.
The older man had been hit in the hip and by the way his trousers was held to his waist by a rope which I believed served as a belt, I was sure the man had lost so much blood. The position and distance his son carried him contribution no doubt. As the wounded man was laid down, his child pleaded with me.
“Biko, nyere nna m aka, ekwela ga onwu o biko,” he pleaded, I saw the pain and the fear with which he said those words. He was ready to do anything to ensure his father did not give up.
I nodded as I started loosing the knot on the rope, the man cried out in pains as my hands moved to check out the exact position of the wound. The son disconnected the bayonet from the nozzle of his rifle quickly and cut the rope, helping me to pull his father’s blood soaked trousers down.
“Papa, hang on, don’t die, hang on,” he consoled his father as he undid the trousers; it was such a pitiful sight that it brought tears to my eyes. It was such a horrible situation to watch your own father dying before your very eyes and you could not do anything.
“As I soaked the towel inside the iron bucket I had with to clean the area surrounding the wound, the man cried out,
“Ahh, Chineke mu, Alaoji bia kwa nu, Chineke bia kwa o!”
“Papa ndo! Ndo! Sorry! Jisi ike,” his son consoled.
“Mmiri o, biko nun ye mu mmiri!” he requested.
“He needs water,” The young man said to me as if I was deaf.
I shook my head to indicate the request cannot be granted.
“Please, give me water, Jesus, I am dying, I need a drink!” the father yelled, his son still looked at me questionly.
“Give him water to drink please, he is my father!” he pleaded as tears rolled down his young eyes.
“No, it would kill him,” I told him.
“Chineke umu Africa, biko, mmiri! I need water, my mouth is dry,” the man groaned, I could see his loss of blood was sapping whatever energy he had left.
“Papa please don’t die, please hold on,” his son cried, “Nurse! Help me, don’t let my father die, please help me.” He asked holding his dying father’s head on his laps.
I cleaned the surface of the wound and the man flinched and shouted with a very familiar painful shrill that I had become accustomed to inside the hospital’s butcher room,
“Hmm, chukwu Ala oji nwa oduma anaa! Blood trailed out slowly from the wound, whoever fired the shot aimed to kill him instantly but instead his death was occurring slowly.
I went on to bandage his waist to stop the bleeding.
“Where is the doctor?” the kid soldier asked with tearful pleading eyes, I pointed towards the new doctor who was standing by the bed of another patient.
“Doctor, Doctor!” the boy called out, leaping up and moving towards him, I cried more for his pain; he was willing to keep his father alive.
I looked back at the dying man, his eyes were half closed and some saliva were running down his mouth, his mouth squeezed into a smile as he looked at me.
“So this is how a man goes,” he said a little audibly, I held his hand, not really knowing what to say or do at that very moment. I knew the man would be gone in a matter of minutes, I had seen cases like his in my short stay at the hospital. I looked up on time to see the boy and the doctor coming down to us.
The doctor crossed over to where we were and shifted the two weapons lying carelessly by the side.
“Nurse, what do we have here?” the doctor asked as he bent down to have a closer look.
“The patient was brought in not long ago with a bullet wound to the pelvis,” I narrated, “Must have lost so much blood and requested for water. I tried to stop the bleeding.” I finished the doctor lifted the bandaged to study the wound closely.
“The entry wound is a real bad case,” he commented, “did you check if there’s any exit?” he asked.
“No, I replied.
“That means the lead is still lodged in there, too bad,” he said as he checked the man’s eyes with his torch.
“This one will need someone to till the ground,” the doctor finished as he stood up; it was our code indicating a patient that may die soon and be buried.
“I’ll go get some pain killers across,” the doctor announced getting up and touching the boy briefly on the shoulders, “Be strong and be man.” I knew the doctor would not be back, the talk was just a way of buying time for the expected to happen.
“Ikenna,” the dying man called out weakly.
“Papa, I am here,” his son replied.
“Icheghim na nga agbake na nka,” he started.
“Papa, hold on the doctor is coming,” the boy replied into his father’s ears.
“Ikenna, listen,” the weak voice demanded, “I am leaving and want you to know I died a very proud man. I am proud of you, you are a brave son.”
“Papa, you will not die, the doctor will soon be here. He went to get drugs for you,” his optimistic son continued.
“Take care of your mother and sisters, don’t let them down and don’t let those bastards hurt you,” his dying father kept uttering, his eyes were closing and the strength in his voice was trailing with each word.
“Papa, hang on, Papa, Doctor!” the boy shouted, “Nurse! Call the doctor, my father is dying,” As he shouted, his father’s weak head kept shaking on his laps with his body’s movement.
The only thing I could do was to watch the tragedy happen; if I had had power to give life, I would have been more than generous for the son’s sake. But being equally mortal, I cried at the demise of yet another casualty. The poor boy started crying and calling his father continuously, it was useless, the man was dead.
I watched with tears as the boy hugged the torso of his dead father whose nakedness was still exposed with only the bandage rolled round his waist covering his manhood partially. The boy was still bent in agony when Dr. Nwosu appeared from the butcher room wearing his same bloodstained gown. He watched the scenario for sometime and then walked up to them and collected the two rifles lying on the floor.
“Elias, keep these inside my office,” he instructed, “he will certainly come back for it.” Both of them left the scene as if nothing happened. I stood by the side and grieved with the boy, his sobs continued for sometime until he could cry no more. He got up and looked about with reddened eyes which fell on me and asked, “Where will I bury my father?”
I did not know where the dead were laid; it was the job of Elias and Orjiakor or any solider Dr. Nwosu assigned the duty. I went and enquired from Elias and he led us that night to the place used as burial ground for the fallen heroes.
That night the kid soldier called Ikenna carried the corpse of his father to his final resting place, I held the lantern as Elias dug the grave. Elias helped the boy put down his father’s remains down the grave, the body was completely stripped of its clothes as they were in short supply and was needed by somebody else.
I said the prayer for the soul of the departed man and heard the boy’s tearful “Amen.” Elias reminded him to perform the burial rite of dust to dust and he grabbed some earth heaped by the side of the grave and stared for some minutes at his dead father before he courageously said, “Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust. Papa Na gboo.” After that Elias threw in earth and I did the same.
I held the lamp as both Elias and the boy covered the grave and marched on the grave. We all walked back to the hospital together silently, when we got to the entrance, the boy asked Elias, “Where is my gun?”
“The doctor took it to his office,” Elias informed him. I watched as he went in there and came out with it; the expression on his face was obvious, he was no longer a boy, he was a soldier, a solider that was out for revenge.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Heroes or Villains? Agonies of forgotten war heroes.
By Ahaoma Kanu
AS youths, they were able bodied men with dreams and aspirations struggling to make the best out of life. They were soldiers who were called to battle by the circumstances that emanated from a political fiasco at a time none of them was prepared to face the unknown.
They were freedom fighters who saw the inhuman treatment meted out to their people and were convinced by their leaders that they had a reason to defend their existence.
They took up arms against a nation that they once belonged to and which their fathers and fore-fathers fought together for its independence from the exploitative grips of the colonials who were determined to rule them from a place their generations were taken to as slaves.
They went into a war with barely few weeks of training in combat against an army whose superior weaponry and training in combat gave them no chance to survive in the eyes of the world but they sacrificed their all to defend their ethnic existence.
Forty years after the war in which they became more of the vanquished than the verbal declaration of “No Victors No Vanquished” made by the Federal Government, in the eyes of those they fought for and against as the enemies.
As it is said, every soldier has a story to tell, the members of the Disabled Veterans of the Nigeria Civil War Association have sober tales to tell after heroic sacrifices and escapades that cost most of them their future and dreams they once longed for.
In their impoverished abode located along the Enugu-Onitsha Express way in Oji Local government of Enugu State, the men who were once regarded as brave hearts reminiscenced on how it has been 40 years after the civil war that happened in the country.
To them the infamous declaration of the former head of state, General Yakubu Gowon's holds no iota of truth as they are the vanquished than war heroes and are now regarded to a great extent as the enemies that the Nigerian nation once and still has.
But in the midst of all the pains and extremely challenging conditions they exist, they have a consolation; they are alive and have hope and will possibly have a decent burial when death comes calling.
For Lawrence Onyegbu, surviving the war is what counts.
“We are alive and that's what matters most. Many people that went to the battle field did not come out alive. Some were blown to pieces and never made it but even as we are sitting here day after day trying to make ends meet through the benevolence of kind Nigerians, we are consoled by the fact that we wake up everyday to fend for ourselves through this means.”
They all share one thing in common as former comrades at arms; each and everyone of them is physically challenged and has been for the past 40 years but the seasons past has not in any way blurred the ugly incidents that led to their being in the condition they presently are. As soldiers, they still have memories. Casmir Mbonu remembers how he was recruited.
“I was recruited into the Biafran Army at Umuna Training depot and was posted to the 9th battalion. From there I went to Umuahia to be the special guard to our then head of State, Gen Odumegwu Ojukwu. In December 1968, there was too much bombing at Umuahia so we were drafted down to the 14th Division in the Aba Area,” he revealed.
Uzim Chuks was 17 years old when he enlisted in the army.
“We volunteered to fight the war because of the atrocities we saw with our very eyes been done to our people, no one forced me into the army. Any youngman in Biafra then was willing to fight for our people,” he said.
Mbah Joseph aged 63 and a father of six children served in the Ojukwu Brigade at the 7th Battalion in Umuahia .
“I was in the Infantry Division and wanted to go into the battle. Nobody was thinking about the future, the present them gave no hope for what was to come as all we wanted was to defend ourselves. I enlisted into the army after I saw our people being brought back from the North; Igbo people and they were indifferent conditions of pain, agony and death.
Everything they ever laboured for has gone with the war. Some of the survivors told us of how anything Igbo was being killed; kids as young as five years were murdered in broad day light. That was enough reason for me to join the army of liberation for Ndi-Igbo.”
Having undergone little or no training, the immature soldiers fought with bravery and were able to hold the equipped Nigerian Army for almost four years to the surprise of their then enemies and to the amazement of the world at large.
They confessed that they actually fought with less ammunition but much bravery.
“We had nothing to start with; we fought with little arms and ammunition and it still baffles me how we survived for so long. I believe God was on our side otherwise we would have been overrun by the enemies a long time before the war ended. There was a time we fought with our hands; Biafra manufactured weapons that sustained us,” Uzim recalls.
One memory each of the veterans have is the day they were hit either by the bullets from their opposing forces or shrapnel that originated from the mortar shells fired by the Federal forces or bombs dropped on them during heavy aerial attacks.
Festus Mba who is the secretary of the association remembers vividly where he got wounded in battle,
“At Abala in the Azumini sector. I was shot in a gun battle between us and the enemies,” he readily said.
Ambrose Oko who was recruited in September 1968 and served in the Afikpo sector was wounded also in that sector.
For Uzim Chuks who had fought for two years before his accident, he got wounded in September 1969 and has ever since remained confined to a wheelchair while Bartholomew Ezeife was shot in the stomach region at Nkpor near Onitsha while serving in the 11th Battalion of the Biafran Army.
Even in their present pitiable conditions, the veterans still maintain they have no regrets with the condition the war put them. Patrick Adiele when asked if he would fight again under similar circumstances, courageously replied in the affirmative.
“The reason we fought was not because we were strong or powerful, we fought to defend ourselves and should the situation repeat itself, we will defend ourselves because the people we fought against them came with a mission to annihilate us. That gave us no chances at all than to take up arms,” he said.
Mbonu still believes they fought for the right cause as he maintained that they war was brought to them.
“We fought for the right cause because we did not plan for the war; it was imposed on us. You will not be in your home knowing that somebody wants to eliminate you and you wouldn't fight back,” he said.
Being the physical, visible and human victims of a war in which their commander-in-chief whose decision to go into exile despite the call for all soldiers to fight to the last man contributed to the surrender, the ex-soldiers did not feel betrayed by his action.
“I felt very happy when he took that decision,” Uzim reveals, “Nobody will stay and see his head of state captured or killed. If that happens, that means the whole cause for which we fought failed.”
But that notwithstanding, they feel betrayed by the false declaration of No Victor No vanquished as what they later witnessed and are still experiencing is a far cry from what was proclaimed by the Gowon-led government.
“I feel 100 per cent betrayed by that. They should have a rethink and know what went wrong. I believe some people don't want the real intentions to be carried out,” Mbah Joseph pointed out.
Another recent development that painfully opens the wound that they sustained four decades ago was the recalling of ex-Nigerian Army Officers that fought on the Biafran side who the Federal Government paid them gratuity and pensions. To the veterans, that gesture was discriminative as well as biased even though they understood the basis on which the benefits were disbursed.
“We know that Ojukwu and others were serving in the Nigerian Army before the onset of the war and we are happy he was called back but then, what about us that were lured into the war? We should also be compensated in one way or the other. The FG should pay us also,” the association's secretary declared.
Ifeatu Joseph, another member of the association is of the opinion that since they all fought in one war, the spirit of reconciliation which the gesture was supposed to bring should also be extended to them.
“The No Victor, No Vanquished proclamation should have guided the government. The way Okeke was treated, Okafor should benefit too. This selective payment of ex-Nigerian Army Officers is not good after all, we were all soldiers, he said.
To their fellow comrades at arms, who were beneficiaries of the largess of the policy, the veterans had mixed feelings for as they believed the spirit of Espirit d' Corps that bound them should have touched them to speak up on their behalf.
“They are the one that are supposed to have taken up our case especially our former Commander-in-Chief, Col. Ojukwu,” Ambrose Oko, a father of three argued, “Whatever Ojukwu says about us will be taken seriously but it is unfortunate that it went the way it did. We have resigned ourselves to fate. We fought as soldiers but have now been abandoned. If he wants to help us, we will be happy and appeased but if they keep on turning deaf ears to our pleas, we can't do anything than wait for the day death will come calling.” He said.
But the more painful experience they are can't bear is the manner in which most of the South-East governors has been treating them.
“We are always here and see them passing with their convoy and they don't look at us. They were children when we were in battle to save them from being annihilated but today we can't even attract their sympathy.
Let them know that the God of the Igbos is watching,” Ifeatu sounded.
As if they still believe in the Proudly Nigerian project, they happily replied that they are the crop of Nigerians that are still been seen as the enemies and to them that is the worst ill treatment that touches their innermost soul.
AS youths, they were able bodied men with dreams and aspirations struggling to make the best out of life. They were soldiers who were called to battle by the circumstances that emanated from a political fiasco at a time none of them was prepared to face the unknown.
They were freedom fighters who saw the inhuman treatment meted out to their people and were convinced by their leaders that they had a reason to defend their existence.
They took up arms against a nation that they once belonged to and which their fathers and fore-fathers fought together for its independence from the exploitative grips of the colonials who were determined to rule them from a place their generations were taken to as slaves.
They went into a war with barely few weeks of training in combat against an army whose superior weaponry and training in combat gave them no chance to survive in the eyes of the world but they sacrificed their all to defend their ethnic existence.
Forty years after the war in which they became more of the vanquished than the verbal declaration of “No Victors No Vanquished” made by the Federal Government, in the eyes of those they fought for and against as the enemies.
As it is said, every soldier has a story to tell, the members of the Disabled Veterans of the Nigeria Civil War Association have sober tales to tell after heroic sacrifices and escapades that cost most of them their future and dreams they once longed for.
In their impoverished abode located along the Enugu-Onitsha Express way in Oji Local government of Enugu State, the men who were once regarded as brave hearts reminiscenced on how it has been 40 years after the civil war that happened in the country.
To them the infamous declaration of the former head of state, General Yakubu Gowon's holds no iota of truth as they are the vanquished than war heroes and are now regarded to a great extent as the enemies that the Nigerian nation once and still has.
But in the midst of all the pains and extremely challenging conditions they exist, they have a consolation; they are alive and have hope and will possibly have a decent burial when death comes calling.
For Lawrence Onyegbu, surviving the war is what counts.
“We are alive and that's what matters most. Many people that went to the battle field did not come out alive. Some were blown to pieces and never made it but even as we are sitting here day after day trying to make ends meet through the benevolence of kind Nigerians, we are consoled by the fact that we wake up everyday to fend for ourselves through this means.”
They all share one thing in common as former comrades at arms; each and everyone of them is physically challenged and has been for the past 40 years but the seasons past has not in any way blurred the ugly incidents that led to their being in the condition they presently are. As soldiers, they still have memories. Casmir Mbonu remembers how he was recruited.
“I was recruited into the Biafran Army at Umuna Training depot and was posted to the 9th battalion. From there I went to Umuahia to be the special guard to our then head of State, Gen Odumegwu Ojukwu. In December 1968, there was too much bombing at Umuahia so we were drafted down to the 14th Division in the Aba Area,” he revealed.
Uzim Chuks was 17 years old when he enlisted in the army.
“We volunteered to fight the war because of the atrocities we saw with our very eyes been done to our people, no one forced me into the army. Any youngman in Biafra then was willing to fight for our people,” he said.
Mbah Joseph aged 63 and a father of six children served in the Ojukwu Brigade at the 7th Battalion in Umuahia .
“I was in the Infantry Division and wanted to go into the battle. Nobody was thinking about the future, the present them gave no hope for what was to come as all we wanted was to defend ourselves. I enlisted into the army after I saw our people being brought back from the North; Igbo people and they were indifferent conditions of pain, agony and death.
Everything they ever laboured for has gone with the war. Some of the survivors told us of how anything Igbo was being killed; kids as young as five years were murdered in broad day light. That was enough reason for me to join the army of liberation for Ndi-Igbo.”
Having undergone little or no training, the immature soldiers fought with bravery and were able to hold the equipped Nigerian Army for almost four years to the surprise of their then enemies and to the amazement of the world at large.
They confessed that they actually fought with less ammunition but much bravery.
“We had nothing to start with; we fought with little arms and ammunition and it still baffles me how we survived for so long. I believe God was on our side otherwise we would have been overrun by the enemies a long time before the war ended. There was a time we fought with our hands; Biafra manufactured weapons that sustained us,” Uzim recalls.
One memory each of the veterans have is the day they were hit either by the bullets from their opposing forces or shrapnel that originated from the mortar shells fired by the Federal forces or bombs dropped on them during heavy aerial attacks.
Festus Mba who is the secretary of the association remembers vividly where he got wounded in battle,
“At Abala in the Azumini sector. I was shot in a gun battle between us and the enemies,” he readily said.
Ambrose Oko who was recruited in September 1968 and served in the Afikpo sector was wounded also in that sector.
For Uzim Chuks who had fought for two years before his accident, he got wounded in September 1969 and has ever since remained confined to a wheelchair while Bartholomew Ezeife was shot in the stomach region at Nkpor near Onitsha while serving in the 11th Battalion of the Biafran Army.
Even in their present pitiable conditions, the veterans still maintain they have no regrets with the condition the war put them. Patrick Adiele when asked if he would fight again under similar circumstances, courageously replied in the affirmative.
“The reason we fought was not because we were strong or powerful, we fought to defend ourselves and should the situation repeat itself, we will defend ourselves because the people we fought against them came with a mission to annihilate us. That gave us no chances at all than to take up arms,” he said.
Mbonu still believes they fought for the right cause as he maintained that they war was brought to them.
“We fought for the right cause because we did not plan for the war; it was imposed on us. You will not be in your home knowing that somebody wants to eliminate you and you wouldn't fight back,” he said.
Being the physical, visible and human victims of a war in which their commander-in-chief whose decision to go into exile despite the call for all soldiers to fight to the last man contributed to the surrender, the ex-soldiers did not feel betrayed by his action.
“I felt very happy when he took that decision,” Uzim reveals, “Nobody will stay and see his head of state captured or killed. If that happens, that means the whole cause for which we fought failed.”
But that notwithstanding, they feel betrayed by the false declaration of No Victor No vanquished as what they later witnessed and are still experiencing is a far cry from what was proclaimed by the Gowon-led government.
“I feel 100 per cent betrayed by that. They should have a rethink and know what went wrong. I believe some people don't want the real intentions to be carried out,” Mbah Joseph pointed out.
Another recent development that painfully opens the wound that they sustained four decades ago was the recalling of ex-Nigerian Army Officers that fought on the Biafran side who the Federal Government paid them gratuity and pensions. To the veterans, that gesture was discriminative as well as biased even though they understood the basis on which the benefits were disbursed.
“We know that Ojukwu and others were serving in the Nigerian Army before the onset of the war and we are happy he was called back but then, what about us that were lured into the war? We should also be compensated in one way or the other. The FG should pay us also,” the association's secretary declared.
Ifeatu Joseph, another member of the association is of the opinion that since they all fought in one war, the spirit of reconciliation which the gesture was supposed to bring should also be extended to them.
“The No Victor, No Vanquished proclamation should have guided the government. The way Okeke was treated, Okafor should benefit too. This selective payment of ex-Nigerian Army Officers is not good after all, we were all soldiers, he said.
To their fellow comrades at arms, who were beneficiaries of the largess of the policy, the veterans had mixed feelings for as they believed the spirit of Espirit d' Corps that bound them should have touched them to speak up on their behalf.
“They are the one that are supposed to have taken up our case especially our former Commander-in-Chief, Col. Ojukwu,” Ambrose Oko, a father of three argued, “Whatever Ojukwu says about us will be taken seriously but it is unfortunate that it went the way it did. We have resigned ourselves to fate. We fought as soldiers but have now been abandoned. If he wants to help us, we will be happy and appeased but if they keep on turning deaf ears to our pleas, we can't do anything than wait for the day death will come calling.” He said.
But the more painful experience they are can't bear is the manner in which most of the South-East governors has been treating them.
“We are always here and see them passing with their convoy and they don't look at us. They were children when we were in battle to save them from being annihilated but today we can't even attract their sympathy.
Let them know that the God of the Igbos is watching,” Ifeatu sounded.
As if they still believe in the Proudly Nigerian project, they happily replied that they are the crop of Nigerians that are still been seen as the enemies and to them that is the worst ill treatment that touches their innermost soul.
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