Your Brief Bio:
I am a student of Air force Institute of Technology, studying purchase and supply. writing makes me happy and fulfilled. i have written few books but they are yet to be published. i love music and i love to read.
Tweet-Style Story Summary:
This is a story of a young officer who at a point in his military career, he questioned some of the things he has done. he began to imagine what the power tussle of African leaders had benefited the continent. he became worried that African leaders would not give up their ego for the development of Africa, rather they shed the blood of the African child to satisfy their ego.
It was another day and another order to obey. Before the aircraft took off he addressed the parade where he asked the men to be loyal to the orders issued to them, and to stay alive. Right there in the sky he looked from the window, and there were no birds, the sight of the blissful blue gas in the sky was nowhere to be found. The sky has been taken over by the bird that only the white mind had made. Men who swore their honor to their dear nation chanting the song of destruction. Those who had instructed the song are in the luxury of their unquestionable comfort. Mothers had sometimes thrown away their sucking babies just to be able to run as their legs could carry them, because the sound of the white metal has no milk of benevolence for nursing mothers. They run not for the hope of safety, but the hope to die another day. Hunger was no longer the worry of the little children, but they pray that their mothers never abandon them. Why did those that commanded this song of destruction find it so easy to command the song? Is it because they do not know what it takes to create or make? The tourist sites in Africa is the one that took the Maker seven days of hard labor to put in place, the handy work of the Creator whom the holy books told them is God. We are the monsters that their orders have made, in our loyalty, the future of the great continent does not matter. Time and time again my hands have been soaked by the blood of my fellow black men. I have seen their children become orphans, intelligent minds have been given metals made by the creative mind of the white continent, to send his black brothers to the dark soil. The pleas and pleads of Africans for a better life for the black child does not matter to the commanders of the war as long as their egos live. They decorated the men they considered heroes for successfully destroying the future of the black continent. They build the economy of the white nations and give their children hope in exchange for bombs and armored tankers. I have been fighting this war, soaked my hands in the blood of those they considered enemies. I have been decorated with so many medals, my bank account has sent my children to the white continent. But here I am taking the future I want to give to my children away from the child of my fellow black men. Every now and then, the African child dies of hunger, the young generation of Africans flee to Europe for a better life because they have lost all hope in the continent blessed by the Creator. The continent with so much arable lands but cannot feed her children, but her leaders have enough resources to pay for machine guns that kill even the pregnant women, and careless about the breast feeding mother and her child. Is this what I have become? A man that blows up the bridges that connect Africa to her future? The father that blows up the factory where food for the black child is made? A man that destroys the company that will employ our black population? A man that takes honor from the flooding blood of the African youths? If this is the definition of heroism, what is the future of Africa? Oh God, what is the future of Africa? My friend where is your thought? Don’t you know that the aircraft has landed about ten minutes ago? The pilot called back the young officer who was lost in his thoughts.
You can see them so well dressed, even death fears they might kill him. On their heads were metal helmet, their chests covered in thick irons. After the young officer had addressed the troops, every one of them went to carry out the orders given to them. He and his battalion was moving to a direction where the enemy was reported to be attacking, when the enemies’ bullets hit him on his arm. The ambulance sings on top of its voice as it runs to the hospital. The doctors immediately did what they had been paid to do and the bullet was removed. But the young officer was reported to have gone into a coma because he had lost so much blood from the gunshot wound. While the doctors were struggling to get the young officer out of coma, message had already been sent to his wife. she spent the better half of the time she got the message crying. Right there in his coma, the young officer found himself in a land with no one to talk to. He fell to the ground in tears as he heard the voice of his wife crying. He lifted up his head and beheld a man whose feet did not touch the ground. The young officer quickly jumped on his feet and asked: “who are you?” I am ME and am here to answer all your questions replied the man who was covered in white apparel. The young officer asked ME, with tears rushing down his cheek, what does the future hold for the black child? ME looked at him and said: “dry your tears, look and see what the hands of your men have done”. And when the young officer looked to the direction that Me was pointing to, he saw how his men had razed down an entire community, the same community where the officer had been hit by a stray bullet. His men had gone to revenge his supposed death, and they destroyed everything living in that community, both young and old, both pregnant and breast feeding mothers. They did not care if the child that will build the first made in Africa aircraft was among them. The young officer could not stop weeping as he fell once again to the ground. ME touched him and said: “Now let me show you what the future holds for the black race.” At the snap of the finger, the young officer found himself in a room, it was like a board room and everyone in the room was a black man. They were all seated like they had been awaiting the arrival of the young officer. ME stood up and told the board that the young officer had come to inquire of what will become of the black continent. ME was still speaking when one of the board members stood up in anger and said: “Why should we tell him the future of the black continent when he and his men had built a future for their own children in the white continent with the blood of his black brothers”.
After a little debate, the board agreed to show the young officer what the future holds for the black race. A flat screen television was switched on, and the young officer was asked to watch. When the television came up the first thing the young officer saw was,” WELCOME TO AFRICA”. He saw children going to school with joy knowing that after their education, they would not have to bribe any one to get a job. He saw cars on the streets of Africa with the inscription: “made in Africa”. He saw sky scrapers taller than those in Dubai. And they were built by the black brain. The young officer looked round the streets of Africa, and could not find anyone on uniform and with a gun. People walked the streets with great liberty, without fear of being mauled, murdered, shot at or kidnapped. The young officer who had not smiled since he got into the aircraft was now smiling that he asked ME:” hope you have petrol in your generator before these NEPA takes the light?” He saw an Africa where the leaders do not steal and store Africa`s wealth in Swiss accounts. He saw the white man in a queue struggling to get a visa to visit Africa, the young officer stood and asked ME: “how was that Africa achieved?” ME asked the operator to switch on the other television, the television which had been covered in dust was switched on and the young officer was curious that he asked the operator to fast forward the jingles. He then saw two black men who were loved by their people. One was from the north and the other was from the south. They both contesting for who will pilot the affairs of the rich black nation. The competition got so blistering, and that was the first time an election was so closely contested between an incumbent and an aspirant. The support from the north was overwhelming, and so convincing. They were ready to die for the ambition of their brother. While the men in the south told the Creator that the destruction they were going to bring to the black nation, there will be no Noah’s ark to save the black child. The white hand had employed thousands of the white youth to increase the gun production to meet the overwhelming demand from the black nation. Defeat was the last word anyone from the north or south wants to hear, it was either I win or the black child pays with his blood. Their children flew with the white birds into the white lands. The thought of these two leaders only connotes anxiety, despair, and destruction. Mothers were giving their children last suppers as if it might be the only meal they will eat with their families. The survival of the black economy was no longer priority, as the black resources was being shipped abroad for guns and bombs. The young officer got up and said but this is the same attitude of our leaders, how can they be that great with the same attitude that has destroyed our Africa. he was told to calm down and watch. He saw the white man who had increased his gun production, arrive the black nation acting as peace makers. The black child was willing to lay down his life, dreams and aspiration for the ambition of his brother. The black fathers considered it cowardice to let down their ego for the future of the black child. Schools were shut down, fear was the only student in the classrooms, but those who they considered fathers had their children school abroad, but busy importing guns for the black child. The sustenance of a black identity was placed in the ego of two men. The election was over and the leader from the south was defeated in the election. the guns were ready to sound, if the leader from the south refuses to accept defeat. He had the army at his disposal, the air craft will fly for him if he says no to the election results. But even to the amazement of Lucifer, the leader from the south conceded power to the leader from the north. The young officer jumped up from his seat with his two hands on his head, in disbelief. ME switched off the television, and turned to the young officer and said to him: “My friend, every hand can write history, but the history that will define the black potential, will be written by those Africans to whom the blood of the black child is more precious than their ego. When ego writes the history of a people, the blood of their children is the only ink that could be reflective. But when humility like you have seen, does write the history, tourism becomes the source of their income. Look my friend you have to return back to Africa and tell your leaders that conceding defeat does not make them cowards, their names will be written in the museum of Africa`s success when they accept defeat for the development and survival of the black pride”. Immediately, the young officer opened his eyes in the hospital and the first person he saw was his wife and he said to her, is the war over? Of course that question was not going to get an answer, as the joy of having her husband back filled her. When the young officer left the hospital, he left the uniform and took up a board on which he wrote HEROES IN DEFEAT THE FUTURE OF AFRICA. And that was the message he passed around all his life time.