Mama Wore heaved the tray of melon seeds with difficulty. A sharp pain stung at her old waist forcing her to sit back on the local constructed stool—popularly called ekpeti. Her grandson Tase came rushing to the constructed kitchen shed where she sat as the sounds of her groans had filtered into his ears.

“Mama, what is it? What happened? Did you fall? He dished out questions with speed—the same rate with which Mama Elo the food vendor dished out doles of rice to her hunger-stricken customers. A flat smile made its way to his grandmother’s old wrinkled face. 

“Ah, my son. You worry too much. I’m fine. Just what old age brings along” She articulated in an assuring tone but that didn’t wipe the worried expression off Tase’s face. 

“Mama, are you sure? In fact, let me get another stool so I can join you. You’ve been working and stressing your back since morning “

Mama Wore watched the young boy hurry off before she could even protest. She took deep soulful breaths as the euphoria of gratitude enveloped her. It was a wonder as to what she was grateful for. Life had not been lenient with her from the start. Her father had died before she was born. Her mother and she had lived from hand to mouth and had to struggle tirelessly on large farmlands to make ends meet. Unfortunately her mother had also died when she was much younger leaving her to struggle on her own. Her relatives had all rejected her. Her mother’s family detested her late father and claimed to have warned her mother against the marriage but she had been adamant hence she, the offspring, was not welcome. Her father’s family had been much more blunt. They weren’t ready to shoulder her burden and they advised her to go elsewhere. 

Mama Wore struggled to make ends meet and a primary school certificate was the highest qualification she could acquire as not a single soul agreed to take on her responsibility. Those had been miserable and lonely years for her till she met her husband. She got married at eighteen and had numerous children. Those were happy days. Things were rosy and never a day did they lack till her husband and seven children went fishing and never came back. The river current had been too strong that day. The canoe capsized drowning her entire family including her senior son Wore and his wife —Tase’s parents. He had only been a year and eight months then. Tase was now fourteen and soon to be a grown man. He was her only hope and her future. One reason she had worked tirelessly to enroll him in the only school in the area three villages away. 

Mama Wore continued picking the melons but was disrupted when the sudden sounds of heart wrenching screams began to filter into her ears. She craned her neck towards the possible directions the sounds could be coming from. The sounds had become louder and more incessant. Sounds of breaking wood, clanging metals, gory screams and screeches resounded in her ears. With a struggle she stood up perplexed and made to go to the front of the house when Tase came dashing towards her breathlessly.

“Mama! Mama! They have come! 

He screamed as he approached her but she creased her brows. 

“Who…

“They’re slaughtering everyone! We have to run!!

Fear gripped her feeble heart and her hands began to quake. The Agama warriors were here! 

Tase got to where she stood and shook her rigid figure vigorously.

“Mama! We have to run! Let’s go!! 

His shrill voice pierced through her soul, and they both broke into a furious sprint the next minute. Mama Wore felt her old legs quake beneath her as she jumped over puddles and obstacles in the way—Tase firmly gripping her hand. She wondered where the sudden youthful strength had risen from, a few minutes ago she had been defeated in a fight against chronic waist pain but now here she was, skipping and dodging through the frenzy as the sounds of terror approached them from behind—the smell of death tagging along. The heart tearing screams persisted as every single being scampered in an attempt to save themselves. Mothers abandoned their children and fathers their families. The horrendous chantings of the Agama warriors were enough to paralyze even the strongest of men. 

In a twinkle of an eye, the village had been reduced to a wasteland. Its houses razed down to the ground, its women brutally raped, its men and leaders killed in cold blood. 

Only a few had escaped and the majority had been wounded. Mama Wore and her grandson perched on the green valleys. With their eyes afar off they watched as their people were massacred before their eyes. Heads rolled, blood spilled and the only home they had ever known was gone forever. Torrents of tears washed down the face of every survivor as they watched the Agama warriors scream in victory taking away their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers and children. A few stayed behind to gather the loot. 

Mama Wore knew that was the end of their village and there was no going back. Where would they go? Who would they meet for help? How would they survive? She wondered why life was always unfortunate to her. She wondered why lousy luck and evil clung to her like superglue. Why did her life always attract trouble?

Peering into Tase’s horrified face, a bitter smile came to her face. She might have lost everything. Her husband,children,her house and all her possessions but at least she still had Tase. His youthful face gave her hope. At least she hadn’t lost everything. 

Tightening her old wrapper around her waist, she got up and her puzzled grandson looked at her with questioning eyes. 

“Mama…His lips quaked as he was too overtaken with fear to speak. She shushed him and pulled his small frame close to hers. His head rested in her old bosom as she patted his back. 

“Don’t worry my son everything will be fine”

“But…..how will we survive? He croaked as tears streamed down his cheeks but she wiped them off with the back of her palm and gazed at him with eyes filled with sadness and yet hope. 

“We will live,  my son. We will live” 

She said and with that, they made their way into the forest, the uncertainty of the somewhat bleak future before them.