THE ENCOUNTER

People were shuffling, pushing, shouting and rushing out of the vehicle, some were jumping through the window. Commotion pervaded that environment and the scene described above was what I saw when I was jolted into consciousness from my slumber.

A co-passenger shouted pleadingly that I should get up and follow them to run for our dear lives. As I rose to join them, I asked for what happened and where we were but he could not give me any answer. On the road, fear and apprehension enveloped people as they were running with sense of uncertainty. Vehicles were packed haphazardly on the road, with head lamps of most of them shattered probably due to crazy rush to escape but abandoned by their owners when the escape mission became impossible. I stood transfixed momentarily. As I tried to figure out my escape route because dusk had set in and it was an unknown terrain, a voice suddenly interrupted my thought; ‘my daughter, let’s run towards this direction, nothing will happen to us by the grace of God,’ she made the statement emphatically.

I turned to the right to see a dark complexion elderly woman beside me, she slung a white veil round her shoulders with a reassuring look, she beckoned on me to follow her. As we were running, information filtered to us that there was a group of rioters ahead of us that we cannot avoid and their main target was the Hausa people, thus due to my Hijab in order not to be mistaken for an Hausa woman and not to risk being killed by the angry and embittered mob. I refused to remove my veil because I believed that Allah will save me coupled with the fact that I was not an Hausa woman. Then, the elderly woman in the spirit of comradeship held my hand and gave me the encouragement not to remove my Hijab and nothing will happen to me by the grace of Almighty Allah.

We proceeded and within two minutes, songs of war pervaded the air around us. As we moved closer, they became visible, they were men of different age groups brandishing various weapons such as cutlass, axe, broken bottles, charms and even guns! They looked as tough as nails. Suddenly, I felt my heart palpitating as if it wanted to jump out of my chest, the thunderous songs of war grew stronger.

However, we continued to move, then suddenly, one of them shouted…’see Hausa woman!’ they rushed towards us as the elderly woman held my hands firmly, I became more apprehensive and I was sweating profusely but managed to maintain comportment. They surrounded us and different comments started flying in the air. One of them shouted ‘kneel down!’ another barked ‘machete her!’ the third voice said, ‘Kill her, she is an Hausa!’ then I managed to find my voice as different dangerous thing they may do to me were just begging for attention in my brain such as burn, rape, torture, kidnap, kill, maim, etc.

I quickly reminded myself that I needed to cooperate with them as much as possible as it dawned on me that they were a bunch of ethnocentric people on a bitter revenge mission. I quickly responded that I was a Yoruba woman, not an Hausa. Another person shouted, ‘it’s a lie, beat her!’ then, one of them asked others to keep quiet and he demanded that I should say ‘toro,’ (Toro is the name of a coin used by Yoruba in the past and the pronunciation will naturally indicate the tribe the person belongs) but I was warned that if I couldn’t pronounce it, I will be in trouble. I responded spontaneously by repeating if four times, ‘toro!’ ‘toro!’ ‘toro!’ They all chorused ‘God saved you, but stop dressing like an Hausa.’ I didn’t even bother to argue with them about their ignorance that Hijab is not meant for Hausas only. I was released to go and thank God, I ran as fast as a hare. Along the road, I saw some Hausa that had been tortured, two of them were stone-dead. When I got to my destination, I narrated everything that happened to my host and they were happy to see me hale and hearty. As I laid on my bed that night, my mind flashed back to the full details of the incident of the day and the main issue. The date was 4^th July, 1998, the dusk gave way to the dawn with glittering hope of arrival of Chief M.K.O Abiola, the presidential candidate of Social Democratic Party of the annulled June, 1993 election by the Military Junta. Chief Abiola has been incarcerated for sometimes for daring to ask for his stolen mandate that was freely given to him by Nigerians of all tribes through a landslide victory that was unprecedented in the history of Nigeria. However, due to the announcement made earlier that he will be released that day, (4^th July, 1998) the expectation was high from Nigerians especially the Yorubas who felt marginalized by the Hausas who have been in control of government in Nigeria for a long time, even till the day the incident happened, that their true leader will be given his mandate and Yorubas will be able to have a sign of relief. Alas! Reverse was the case when it was announced on television and radio that Chief Abiola died that day without any reasonable defence from the Hausa-led military government.

Consequently, hell was let loose because the Yoruba who are kinsmen of Chief Abiola suspected foul play from the government, they refused to be bamboozled and decided to take laws into their hands, hence their determination to kill as many Hausas as possible. This culminated to riot and it was Almighty Allah that saved the situation because it would have snowballed into another civil war. In conclusion, the lesson in this incident is that; we should be careful so that in the rage of anger, we do not shed innocent blood and later regret it or even avenge wrongly. Also, in the midst of danger, we must remember Almighty Allah as the only saviour [always].