As I stepped out, unknown to me, a political storm was brewing in the area in the year 2009. Just five minutes after I alighted from a keke (tricycle), handing over 50 naira to the keke driver who seemed to be saying something in Hausa that I didn’t understand, a group of people appeared from my left. Most of them were under twenty-five, and more than half seemed like teenagers, alimajri kids. At first, they appeared to be holding sticks, but as they drew closer, I realized they were wielding hockey sticks studded with nails. "This is a weapon," I thought to myself, realizing the danger I was in. I recalled the keke driver’s words and wondered if this was what he had been trying to warn me about.
Suddenly, my eyes widened with fear as people around me began running in all directions for safety. I was left standing alone, paralyzed with fear. Before I could move, the group surrounded me, chanting "Chubani, Chubani" along with other words I couldn’t quite remember. At this point, I knew I couldn’t run, so I steeled myself to face my fear. "I have to face my fear, I have to do this," I told myself.
The leader of the group stepped forward, raising his hand to silence the others. He held his nailed stick menacingly and leaned in close to me, his face twisted into a wicked smile. "One ni or two ni?" he asked, lifting his weapon as if ready to strike. I was unsure which political party slogan they were referring to, and I didn’t know how to respond. Whatever I said, I feared they wouldn’t let me go without harm.
In a moment of desperation, I summoned inner strength, imagining myself as a warrior wielding an AK-47 and machine gun, and began displaying moves like Dwayne Johnson, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jet Li, Jason Statham, and Jean-Claude Van Damme in the movie The Expendables. Aiming only to disable them by targeting their legs, leaving the teenage ones untouched. Their leader began begging for mercy.
As I stood there, deliberating whether to let them go or hand them over, I felt a sudden slap on my cheek, snapping me back to reality. I realized I had no weapon, not a warrior, never been to war or seen one before, and was just a scared girl. The illusion shattered, I fell to my knees and begged them in broken Hausa and English, "Danla yakuri, I beg, I’m innocent, please don’t hurt me."
Just then, I heard a loud thud on my back. As I turned to see who hit me, I woke up with a start. It was just a dream. Thank God it was just a dream.
