CHIBOK (COMPLETED)

THIS SAME SUN

PROLOGUE

... a suburb near Yaoundé, Cameroon. ...23-04-2007

On top of the fact that he was scared, he had to try and hold his full bladder.

"Go, Tee, run! hide! No matter what happens don't come out!" Those were Momma's last words to the little boy who ran and hid within a cupboard under the stairs, intently listening to the conversation outside the small space filled with his playthings.

Momma was always grave, she says little and rarely smiles; so whenever she says anything, she meant them, and Baby Tee always obeys. There were consequences in the past when he'd tried to deviate from 'the straight and narrow' and momma would have that look of sadness and anger in her bright eyes, then she would pat Baby Tee on the cheek and say, 'I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.'

Momma was beautiful, with wide almond shaped eyes, long, yet kinky chestnut brown hair and brilliant radiance when she smiles-which of course was rarely-she had a modest look on her face most of the times that sometimes Baby Tee had heard uncle Yochua joke about how his brother (Baby Tee's father) had eloped with her from a convent. Baby Tee was never sure if that was true, but to the merit of the rumour father (quite jokingly) debunked, Momma was quite religious and very active in the nearby catholic church, she always prays her rosary, never misses mass and made it a point to wake Baby Tee up to pray every morning, when she would tearfully beg God to favour him and help her train him. For all the prayer was worth, Tee was never far from trouble.

But that day, uncle Yochua had that look on his face that was akin to mother's. Something was bothering him even before now, he had return from the city and hadn't return in two months which was quite odd. Uncle Yochua never spends a week with the family, he always has a business to return to. That explains why he had no wife or children of his own, or the patience to understand why his nephew was far from handful.

In recent times, Momma and Pappa with uncle Yochua would whisper words at night when they think Baby Tee had fallen asleep watching TV. He had picked some words like, 'the order,' 'ankh,' 'Cairo,' in their long conversation. He was never caught eaves dropping on the party, Baby Tee was smart enough to know he wasn't supposed to know. His parents were the best he knew, but they had in their own way instilled in him the value that sometimes--most times to be candid--children are meant to be seen and never to be heard. In this case, never to hear, and not to be caught equals not to be seen.

Pappa had recently acquired a gun which he hid in a drawer in his working desk, this added to the mix that got Baby Tee even more suspicious. The boy had woken the night before to pee when he saw that the lamp in Pappa's study was on, it's fluorescent light cast a slanting shadow off the wooden door that was left ajar.

Pappa always insists on switching the light off, to conserve energy, a rule he enforced with more emphasis in recent times, Baby Tee's tiny feet must have made minimal sound for the huge man hunched over the oaken desk to notice, Pappa was cleaning a black metal with the same attention he would give to his student's script when marking.

It was that darn tawny cat that gave Baby Tee away, it meowed. This called his attention to the little boy standing in the door way watching him oil a pistol, then the cat slunk away. Pappa was quick to put everything back in the shelf, but his motions were clumsy all the same. He made that hypocritical smile adults like to make, the sort that show their teeth, sometimes, but never, ever reaches their stern eyes, a vain attempt to prove that nothing was amiss. Baby Tee rarely misses anything.