Anonymous soldier

Aisha, my eleven year old, little friend ran to me this afternoon with her face glowing with pride. 'My father will be coming home soon'. She said to me. 'oh, that's nice. Hope he will bring back some goodies from that side? I asked, she didn't respond. She avoided my questions, that was when I took a closer look at her and discovered the worry written all over her.

<p dir="auto">'But my mom seem not happy about it. She hasn't said a word to us after she told us that our daddy is on his way home,'. <p dir="auto">I asked her, why. She seem not to have an answer to my inquisitiveness. She seem like she wanted to cry at any slightest emotional provocation. I only offered her my consolation <p dir="auto">'You should be happy that dad is coming home and not worried. Stop being too negative about his coming back'. I hugged her and asked her to cheer up and go arrange the house for daddy. She left me to go meet her siblings that were playing on the rock in front of our building. <p dir="auto">'Poor girl'. <p dir="auto">Another day dawned, her dad was expected to be home today. He was to be brought home to them by his friend, Sgt Usman. He drove all the way from Maiduguri down to Ibadan. <p dir="auto">As the car engine stopped, Aisha's mother ran out, Sgt Usman came close to her, he handed the woman her husband bags, the only thing that remained of her husband. She held it close to her heart, and wept her soul out to God. <pre><code> **** **** **** **** **** **** <p dir="auto">'Our fear isn't death, that, we know must surely come one day, our fear is leaving our women all alone to fight the wars that comes with life and being alive'.