Fidel's dead??!!!

Dazed and weak is the only way I can describe how I felt when I received the heart-wrenching news. Dead, Fidel? My Fidel?

After having a little drink (mine was orange juice) and shooting some pool with some colleagues form work at a nearby pub, after work on Thursday night, I was a little bit light in my spirit on my way home. I was at London Bridge trying to find out from the display what time and which train to take, when my mobile phone start to ring. As usual, I was happy to receive a call. I looked at the number. It was a foreign number, from Nigeria, but not listed on my phone. Naturally, I answered the it, and the person on the other side said "it's me Omo". "Which Omo?" I asked. "Fidel wife", was the response. Then it registered. So I went on to ask how things were faring. I thought she was playing around and trying to be ironic when she said things were not fine. But that thought was short-lived by the next sentence: Fidel was dead. What?! Suddenly, I felt numb and speechless. My whole body, immediately felt weak. My interest in my surroundings was lost and my mind started racing. What does this all mean? I will never see Fidel on earth again? What about Omo, who he married less than two years before? And, the baby who is about 14 months old? Do I take the baby as my responsibility? Or, bring the mother overseas? Do I go back home? A thousand thoughts flooded my mind, as I became oblivious of my immediate environment.

God help us. I am so sad, even now. I did manage to ask her how he died. My one-syllable question was "how". To which she answered "stray bullet". It happened the Sunday before, on Fidel's way to work. That was on 15 April, 2007. All the way home, I was feeling very weak and listless. I got off the bus behind my house, walking home, I could not hold back any longer and I started to cry. I wiped my eyes of tears several times, but it kept coming. No single person saw me. I got home and my brother was in the kitchen cooking, I did not open the kitchen door and continued to my room upstairs. Still crying, I knelt down to pray, I could not. I sent an SMS to my other brother that I can not come to his house later that evening, as I have to sleep because I lost a "dear friend". I sent simple SMS to my fiance in Nigeria "Fidel is dead". They both called me, briefly. I wept, I prayed and I tried reading the Bible. I begged God to let Fidel wake up, because of Christ, me and God's mercy. Normally, I am starving when I get home from work. But I slept without eating that night. Fidel was gone.

Without doubt, I can say Fidel was my best and most reliable friend on earth. He was almost a brother. I told God this was my personal loss. Fidel was part of me. He would do anything for me, when I ask. He never tells me "no". A gentle and honest man, my Fidel. Oh God, what I loss for me. I thought if I had been in Benin (Nigeria), he would have still been alive! That was because I thought the stray bullet had resulted from the elections on that day. And, if I had told Fidel not to go out, he would not go out; or maybe he would come to visit me. But when I called his wife, for the first time since the sad news, she told me it was by a soldier's bullet. And now, also, I realize Nigeria does not conduct elections on Sunday. Now, Fidel is gone: dead. Typically, thee will be no enquiry and no disciplinary action will be taken against the gun-man (soldier). Why would a bullet be "straying?" I asked myself and later, by brother. What has Nigeria turned into? If there was professionalism and discipline, why would a serviceman's bullet stray? They handle their guns any way they see fit. They shoot indiscriminately. That is why.


Due to some irresponsible serviceman's callousness, I have lost a dependable and true friend. A young bride has been made a widow in her twenties. A little child will not grow up with the father; made fatherless. Oh God, please. Please, God, have mercy; raise Fidel up, I beseech You.