Peace In The Silence

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              I was six when it happened. When I watched my father blow into tiny pieces, when I saw what an actual brain looks like, when I understood what the reward of speaking the truth and fighting for was in a country that only knew and spoke lies; death was the reward.

         My father was Olamide Ayoola Coker, a respected journalist who was known for always speaking the truth even when he knew better than to do so. He worked for this big newspaper office called The Nigerian Watch and they loved to speak the truth especially my father and his boss.

     The day it happened was like just every other day, we were up early to prepare for school, as always my parents were arguing about my dad’s latest piece of news; I think it was about the silencing of a man who they had termed a revivalist, I didn’t know then but silencing was more than being shut up it was equal to death..

        My mother hated the fact that my dad willing just place his life on the line to speak the truth and my father didn’t understand why she detested it.

         “You should be proud of me Aliya that I still have the courage to speak the truth when everyone else are spitting lies.” My father said in a calm voice..he never lost his temper because it did no good for a man to do so.

        “But I can’t and you know why because you speaking the truth is equivalent to knocking on deaths door and by Allah I refuse to be a widow this young.” She shouts getting angry, my father was a Christian but my mum was a devout Muslim.

         “ I’m not knocking on deaths door, do you want our children to live in a country where there’s no healthcare and anarchy is gradually becoming the order of the day?” he asks and my mum turns to face him. “ I’d rather they grow up with a father.” She retorts seething before flinging a clothe at me  “ Miriam you better wear your shoes before I meet you there.” She says taking her anger out on me.

          “Aliya, nothing will happen to me and if God forbid it that anything does, Mr Austin has assured me that he’ll take care of you and the children, there’s even a trustfund for you…” he begins but my mother cut him off.

         “Enough‼ I don’t want your bosses money or trustfund. I want to stop living in fear everyday that you may not return, that I’ll be a widow that my children will be fatherless. I could manage my fears when it was just the two of us but now we have children Mide, you have Yinka and Miriam to think about.” She says beginning to sob and my dad goes to comfort her while I go and sit next to my older brother who’s already started eating his breakfast.

       “Yinka.” I whisper quietly and he turns to face me frowning  “What does the word father less mean?” I ask and he sighs “Shutup and eat your food Miriam.” He says turning back to his food and I glare at him.

        My father was sorting through his letters, I always wondered at the amount of handwritten letters he got when there were already technology advancements like emails and textmessages  but he didn’t mind because writing was a tradition that needed to be kept alive in the era of emails.

     I was watching him intently, going through each one of them noticing the ones he threw into the waste bin, those were the ones I loved reading just because I wasn’t meant to.

       He picked up one and just looking at the address his face became angry and he threw it into the bin…that was it…the one I had to read, finishing my meal I quickly get up and move close to my dad , telling him all that I was sure would happen in school as I pick up the letter.

        “Miriam‼ would you get away from there and dropt that letter back in the waste bin.” My mother says and I grudgingly do so moving towards my mother when I hear it.
   Beep beep  beep… it’s low at first and it suddenly increases,  I stop in my tracks before turning to look at my parents “Mide what’s that noise?” my mother asks and I turn to look at him “I think it’s…” he begins but never finishes.

     There’s an explosion and the force throws me back, hours later when all has settled and they people have managed to clear the debris I can hear my mother wailing and Yinka crying, I turn back to look for my father and just before the pieces of his body is taken away I see it, the mangled body part, the cracked skull with his brain spilling out.

    It was the moment that I understood that my mother’s fears had come to pass, the meaning of the word fatherless, and the reward for speaking the truth in a country that only knew lies was death. It was also the moment I stopped talking, because I realised that there was peace; peace in the silence.