This is in response to an initiative of @ericvancewalton, to make us walk down memory lane and relive those moments long gone, keeping them alive for our future generations.
In a year from now you’ll have a legitimate memoir that you can pass along to future generations of your family. But what I really hope is it provides a valuable glimpse into your inner self.
What's the first major news story you can remember living through as a child?
Death wasn't a very common occurrence in our small community in those days and whenever I heard someone died, I wondered about it and yearned to attend a funeral ceremony, just to see how 'dead people looked like'. But Grandma would never let me, "These are not for children and besides you will have nightmares if you do", she would brusquely dismiss me. So death was shrouded in some kind of mystery which I then considered as a tragedy that could befall only far away people, so my stance towards it was lackadaisical.
But the death of this remarkable man shook the community and my entire country to the core. I didn't know him personally neither was he a part of my family but I surprisingly felt numbness as radio stations across the country buzzed with the reports of this high-profile assassination, which ended abruptly the era of a Pan-Africanist. This left a lasting impression in my tender heart. I was about seven years old in 1976, when this great visionary and a supposed saviour of my country was assassinated in a botched coup d'etat, on his way to work in Lagos, Nigeria. Gunmen had fired at his car killing him instantly.
He was Murtala Ramat Muhammed, a General who featured prominently in the Nigerian Civil war and thereafter became the 4th Head Of State of the Nigerian Nation. In his very brief spell as a ruler, he was fierce and committed to his cause. He quickly started a series of reforms dedicated towards shaping the political landscape of his county at that time.
In my village, people gathered in small groups, solemnly discussing the tragic event and for the first time, nobody was in a hurry to go anywhere, either to the farm or to the market. Though I was too young to fully grasp the significance of such a momentous event, I knew it was huge.I was sad because my Grandma was sad, because everyone was sad.
Then I hated death for what it did to my country, for snatching a man who was on the route to repairing the ravages of the past civil war, and revamping the economy so battered.
His assassination was mourned deeply and bitterly, bewailed in a manner worthy of a true nationalist and a hero, it was indeed "the ides of February" for my dear community, and just like in Julius Caesar's "ides of March", a bleak day for my country.
Thank you @ericvancewalton for this noble initiative.
I am @edith-4angelseu and thank you for stopping by my neighbourhood.