Episode one Hannatu's story

My name is Hannatu Naomi Isiaka.. I'm 19 years old.. The story I'm about to tell started over 10years ago.. precisely when I was six..

I was born into a family of 6.. 4girls and 2boys, I being the 5th child.. My mother was a petty trader, at least before she lost her sight 6years ago. We lived in a relatively large house in a small settlement in plateau state. My father had built this house when the farming buisness was booming.. He died when I was 6 and that is where my story begins...

That night my father came back home bleeding seriously as he tried hard to make it into the house.. My mother rushed from her corner where she was making dinner and I was playing close by with my younger brother. My dad collapsed before my mum could reach him. She screamed for help as she tried to stop the bleeding and get him to tell her what had happended.. but none was near by.. My dad could barely talk.. I watched helplessly as life was gradually sipping out of his body. My mum left him there on the ground to look for help. As I watched paralysed by fear, my dying father motioned to me with his hand, asking me to draw closer. I did with all the energy I had and I knelt down beside him and he whispered a word to me in our dialect which meant "fight".. My 6 year old mind did not have the capacity to understand that word or what it meant but it seemed to go straight to my spirit.. He held my hand with his last strenght and then released his grip. I knelt there starring at him, as if waiting patiently for him to get up and explain what was happening to me.. But he was still, motionless, cold.

Few minutes later my mum ran in with my aunty and two other men.. She looked at me and then at my dad's body and she turned white. Kicking me out of the way she reached for him screaming "baba Nuhu".. "kar ka yi mini haka dan allah baba nuhu" (don't do this to me please).. But he was gone. My father was dead.

........
Continues tomorrow