August 29, 2002
7.30am
The list book. It was still sitting on
the side stool. The list book. The one I placed beside my dad’s favorite chair.
It was still there. It had moved slightly in position. So he had seen it. If
so, then he must’ve left money inside. I grabbed the book and flipped the
pages. No money. So I stormed towards my parent’s bedroom, dragging my 14 year
old body along with me.
As I neared the door, it swung open, the
weight of the sling crying as if to notify me that the king was coming out. My Daddy emerged in his work pants and a
blue singlet (tank) I hadn’t seen before. But I ignored it.
Him: Morning!
Me: Good Morning Daddy
Him: You didn’t even compliment my new
singlet. How does it look? Your brother bought it for me.
He was beaming proudly in an incredibly jovial attitude.
I took a mental note to tell my big brother Uzo to buy Daddy more singlets. Then, I continued.
I took a mental note to tell my big brother Uzo to buy Daddy more singlets. Then, I continued.
Me: Yea Daddy its nice
It really was nice but The list. That’s
what was on my mind.
He grabbed his ritual morning pawpaw
juice and headed back into the room. I followed. Mommy had just finished packing a suitcase for his trip to Zimbabwe the next day where he was to receive some Publisher’s award.
Mom: Choko, are you ready? If you’re not,
the driver can drop you off later. Because I’m running late to my workshop.
She was referring to her dropping me off
at the French class I had spent the summer taking. I really didn’t understand
why my parents didn’t buy me a ticket to the U.S. for summer vacation like I’d
become accustomed to. After all, my mom was spending the summer there with my
older siblings; why couldn’t I just go with her?
This particular summer, my dad had
insisted I spend the summer with him while my mom was away in the U.S. and
attend French classes. I was furious but I survived the summer. In fact, I
enjoyed the summer I spent with my daddy. My hero. We had a lot of good conversations that summer....the knowledge he impacted on me, I could never forget. Mommy had gone to the U.S. and come back. Summer was over. Now, my focus had turned to starting S.S. 2 (11th grade) in a few days.
Me: I am ready Mommy. But I have
something to bug daddy about.
I turned to him.
Daddy, I’m going back to school in two
days and you haven’t even given me money for my provisions but I see you have
seen the list.
He laughed. Like only him could.
Him: Don’t worry. When I get back from
work, we’ll look at it together. Wait up for me. Don’t worry.
Me: Hmmmm Mommy you have heard him.
Daddy, I’ll hold you to your word o.
They both laughed.
Mommy: Ngwa let’s go.
Me: Bye Daddy
Him: Bye
No hugs. Mommy and I just hurried out the
door, down the steps and into the car.
My day was ordinary. Nothing special
happened. Scratch that. My day “seemed” ordinary. Daddy wasn’t able to pick me
up after lesson because he was busy preparing for his trip the next day. He sent the driver
instead.
9pm
I was starting to feel sleepy but
determined to wait up for Daddy like we agreed, I refused to give in to
nature’s beckon. I wasn’t going to let my daddy come home and go to bed without
getting the money I needed.
As Mommy and my aunt settled in the
living room to watch the 9pm NTA news and my younger siblings climbed into
their bed for the night, I tried to keep busy, to stay awake. I listened to
music and packed a bit for school.
9.45pm
I had just strolled past the parlor in another
attempt to stay awake. When I walked back into my room…….
*Gunshots* It was coming from
outside.
*Screams* Those were coming from inside. The
parlor.
I did the first thing I saw in American movies.
I lay down on the floor.
About 50 seconds passed.
Then it was over. Just like it started. I
was in disbelief. Our street was one of the safest in the town. This is the
first time, anything out of the ordinary happened. In fact, this was the first
time, I had heard live gunshots in my life.
My mom ran to me.
Mom: Baby, are you okay?
Me: Yes Mommy
Mom: Please call your dad. He's at your Uncle’s Arthur’s. Tell
him people are shooting on our street and to just spend the night there.
I hurriedly ran to the black house phone.
*Dial*
2 minutes later.
Me: Mommy, Uncle said Daddy already left
o.
*Gunshots*
Everyone laid on the floor again.
*Tires screeching as a car drove away*
When it was over, Mommy didn’t say anything.
She just rushed to her cell phone and started dialing my dad’s cell phone.
Mom: I’ll try his MTN. Try the Nitel
okay?
Me: Okay.
I obediently and fervently dialed my
dad’s phones as I was told.
My hero didn’t pick any of his cell
phones that night. I worried because my dad picked my mom’s calls regardless of
where he was.
10 minutes later, my mom called out to
the gateman Elisha to ask what happened.
He said "Madam, policemen came and released shots and left".
Another quiet 10 minutes passed.
Then the neighbor called to say he saw someone lying in front of our gate.
My mom then called out to Elisha again to ask if he could see anyone through his window. He looked out the window and said he saw a skinny and light-skinned person lying there. We asked what he was wearing. He said white.
He said "Madam, policemen came and released shots and left".
Another quiet 10 minutes passed.
Then the neighbor called to say he saw someone lying in front of our gate.
My mom then called out to Elisha again to ask if he could see anyone through his window. He looked out the window and said he saw a skinny and light-skinned person lying there. We asked what he was wearing. He said white.
My dad isn’t light skinned. So we stopped
worrying that he was involved at all. Instead, we worried that it was someone
who needed help.
Then, my
mom called her older brother who said he just spoke to my dad and that he was
on his way home. He also advised that we go help whoever was out there while he
tried to call my dad’s cell phones. We decided it was best to go together.
It was myself, my mom, my aunt and my maternal grandma who walked outside.
I rushed ahead of everyone else. As soon
as I stepped outside the gate, I spotted the shoe.
The shoe. My dad had one like that.
I held it up and screamed "Mommy, daddy's shoe!" to my mom who was directly behind me.
Then I put it down quickly convincing myself it couldn’t be his.
After all, he couldn’t own the only pair in the world.
My mom ran back to the garage to pull out the car to transport "whoever it was" to the hospital while I walked closer, throwing caution to the wind; my 14 year old mind had given way to a more mature curious mind. I just wanted to know who it was. I’m lying; I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t my beloved.
Then I put it down quickly convincing myself it couldn’t be his.
After all, he couldn’t own the only pair in the world.
My mom ran back to the garage to pull out the car to transport "whoever it was" to the hospital while I walked closer, throwing caution to the wind; my 14 year old mind had given way to a more mature curious mind. I just wanted to know who it was. I’m lying; I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t my beloved.
When I reached him, I screamed. I jolted
him. I begged him to wake up.
but I didn't cry.
I couldn't cry.
I just tugged on him and asked him to tell me what happened. I told him not to go like this. I told him he couldn't go like this. His cell phone was in his bloody hands. He must have been trying to pick up my mom’s calls- Like we trusted he always did.
but I didn't cry.
I couldn't cry.
I just tugged on him and asked him to tell me what happened. I told him not to go like this. I told him he couldn't go like this. His cell phone was in his bloody hands. He must have been trying to pick up my mom’s calls- Like we trusted he always did.
My grandma and aunt walked up to me and
saw what I saw.
Before they could react, they noticed my
mom’s car driving towards us. When I heard my mom’s car pulling up, I suddenly
became speechless and motionless.
“Who is it?” She queried cluelessly.
No one spoke a word as she got out the
car only to see the love of her life lying in his own pool of blood.
“Chim o! (My God). Victor!” She screamed his name. Her voice wreaked of anguish.
We carried him into the backseat of the
car and she sped off with my aunt in the front seat in a haste, while I went in
the house to promise God everything I had or could obtain.
That night, I lifted up my blood-stained hands to God in plea. I promised Him that
if He saved my dad, I’d even become a nun. I told Him I’d do anything if He
could just save my hero for me. I even promised Him things I knew were
impossible. I pleaded. All I wanted was this one favor. I told Him if He saved
my dad, I’d never ask for anything other thing in life.
My dad died that night. It was only one bullet that ended it. On August 29,
2002, someone shot and killed the man I loved first, and left him for us to
find.
Apparently, that night my mom took him to
3 hospitals, none of which had any doctors available. One of the hospitals
wouldn’t even open the gate without identification. How was a woman who found
her husband shot at 10pm at night going to have to his ID on her? They claimed they had a policy of getting clearance from the Chief Medical Officer or a police report before admitting a car into the premises. Yes people, they wanted us to take the man dying in the backseat to get a police report first before attending to him. They didn't even know who he was.
It was the last hospital that pronounced him dead after they finally agreed to assess him.
It was the last hospital that pronounced him dead after they finally agreed to assess him.
That night, 10 years ago, a big tree
fell. That night, as I waited for him to come home to give me money for my school provisions, my life was being changed. That night, I lost the first man who
told me I could be whatever I wanted to be….The first man who believed in me. But
that night, I gained an angel. I gained inspiration to live the life I’m living
now.
So, today, I’m not mourning 10 years
without my father; I’m celebrating 10 years of living under his angelic watch.
That’s why I’m telling the world this story.
I do not write this story to seek revenge because I believe in a God that avenges the pain of His believers. I do not tell you this story to admonish the Nigerian police for never bringing anyone to justice on this hideous crime because even though I can blame them for a host of other deficiencies, I do not blame them for their ignorance as to the caliber of man who was lost on August 29, 2002. Today, I could spend my time cursing my home country for letting their inadequacies cost the life of a man loved by many, a peaceful man who lived a life of caution, a man who left behind a widow with 7 children, but I won’t waste my time telling a country what it already knows. I refuse to waste time hating the country either because I still love it, just for being home. Instead, today, I still refuse to call it what the media called it “The Assassination of Victor Nwankwo” because I hate the word “assassination” the same way I hated it 10 years ago. I’m sticking to calling it a “tremendous and unfortunate loss”. Even that, doesn't cut it.
I do not write this story to seek revenge because I believe in a God that avenges the pain of His believers. I do not tell you this story to admonish the Nigerian police for never bringing anyone to justice on this hideous crime because even though I can blame them for a host of other deficiencies, I do not blame them for their ignorance as to the caliber of man who was lost on August 29, 2002. Today, I could spend my time cursing my home country for letting their inadequacies cost the life of a man loved by many, a peaceful man who lived a life of caution, a man who left behind a widow with 7 children, but I won’t waste my time telling a country what it already knows. I refuse to waste time hating the country either because I still love it, just for being home. Instead, today, I still refuse to call it what the media called it “The Assassination of Victor Nwankwo” because I hate the word “assassination” the same way I hated it 10 years ago. I’m sticking to calling it a “tremendous and unfortunate loss”. Even that, doesn't cut it.
"Nwankwo was a quiet, good-natured, fair-minded and exceptionally level-headed man. His immediate and extended family were central to his life and brought him much happiness."
You may even find tributes from his colleagues like this one or this one from APNET (African Publishers Network). You may also find something like this one which weeps for justice for him.
But my own version is that of a 14 year old girl who found her hero lifeless. I wanted to tell the story on this significant milestone, so you
could see this event like I saw it, from the eyes of a 14 year old. I write this story so you could know
the human being behind this blog. I hope after you read this story, you will
gain an insight into why I am and will always be “NwaVic”...my father's daughter. Without this post, this nwavic.blogspot.com won't be complete because you won't know why it was named so.
Today, I’m acknowledging and appreciating
the woman who has played mother and father for the past 10 years. I salute the
woman, meek in appearance but strong in spirit beyond her years; A woman who
has held down the ship for 10 years without missing a beat. The woman who has
ensured, to the best of her ability, that none of her children lack in any way or even slightly feel the absence of a father. In the same sense, I hail my siblings for our
loss wasn’t one of separation but one of unity….for never ending a phone call or
meeting without “I love you” and a hug.
Today, I hail the clan...Mommy, Uzo, Oby, Ogo, Nazo, Dera and Kennedy.....for our tragedy has become our triumph.
And as long as I breathe, you WILL be celebrated.
Today, I hail the clan...Mommy, Uzo, Oby, Ogo, Nazo, Dera and Kennedy.....for our tragedy has become our triumph.
And as long as I breathe, you WILL be celebrated.
We love and miss you Daddy.
“Each day’s a gift…Each loved one is a treasure. Live, love and appreciate...while you can”
 |
| The clan. December 2001. The last "complete" family picture. |
Stay Inspired….
