CHUK'S SACRIFICE

By Abraham Favour Olohigbe

The heavy rain poured down from last night until the hours of the morning. The brutal killings on the streets of Balotore haven't stopped for the past two years and have only gotten worse. I lost my husband to it last month. The citizens of this little country, which is on a coastline and very far from civilization, were awakened to the death of their young king two years ago. It was investigated and announced as murder. Nobody understands how this fight started, why it started, or even how it's going to end, but it's a power tussle.

My little sister and I are moving bit by bit toward the railroad, but if we are caught, it is death. Usually, getting to the railroad is just about forty-five minutes from town. Going to the railroad doesn't secure total escape because the train comes once every three months, but we do not know the time or the month.

I have paid some crooks money here and there to get us safely to the railroad, and the last person who would help us get to our destination was Chuks. He was a well-built fine young man, with dimples by the side and a smile that could leave a lady yearning, but the war had gotten to him. He looked hunger-stricken because the food flow in Balotore had reduced drastically over the years of war.

We took off at midnight on our way to the railroad, and at dawn, we were almost close. I could see the railroad when the disaster struck. I heard footsteps from my left as we hurried to look for a place to hide, but it was too late. We saw men with rifles approach us, and their leader asked what we were doing there. As he was speaking, we could hear the blasting horns of the train, which wouldn't stop but would slow down a bit for anyone desperate to hop on. Then Chuks spoke in our native dialect. I could see in his eyes that he was scared they would understand. "Correre più veloce che puoi, spero che tu trovi la vita che non potrei vivere" (run as fast as you can, I hope you find the life which I couldn't live). To my amazement, the men looked confused. I carried my sister and did just what he said. I got to the train in time, and as I entered, I heard a gunshot. Through the window, I could see him sprawled on the grass, lifeless.

Even after leaving Balotore, I still think of that man who died by the railroad, so I strive to live a life of peace.