Through Grandma's Eyes
Grandma sat silently on the chair and watched the gentle moon pierce the dark sky while her fingers gently drummed the table. The ward echoed with hurtful groans and the smell of antiseptic pervaded the air. I was trying to be strong but Grandma knew better. The Doctor was back again to add another drip for the day and I was weary from the fluid running slowly through my veins. My hand was swollen and my left leg was lifted by strings attached to the bed.
'They could've done it properly but you know we are many here Kamara. Just hold on tight', Grandma smiled sadly and ruffled my hair. Her right arm was bandaged yet she swung it around like it was nothing. Yes, it was that same arm that shielded my head from being dashed against the walls when the Night men attacked.
We were retiring for the night after a long day of selling fruits at the market. It had rained earlier and Grandma's pepper soup with roasted catfish filled our stomachs detectably. Little Maria, our neighbour's daughter went home with a full belly. Grandma's gaze intruded my thoughts. It was as if she could see into my mind.
The door echoed eerily. It wasn't the restless winds but a mysterious noise. Grandma sat up, vigilantly strolling her eyes around the room. Something was wrong with the way the night sounded. I remember peeping out of the window to find Maria's mother running out wildly. The whole town began to reverberate in confusion and I heard Maria's cry. Grandma dragged me in and shut the window. Her hands were trembling as she forced me under the bed.
Atrocious screams stowed into our once tranquil abode. Grandma waited expectantly at the door and at that moment, I felt a sharp pain on my leg. The men pushed their way in and ravaged our house. Someone lifted the bed and delivered blows on my body. Grandma tried to shield me but I swung my body over her and received every hit.
Grandma wiped my tears as I stared around. Everyone in the ward had a visage of horror. Men had become crippled and women painfully moaned the loss of a child, sister and mother. The door flung open spontaneously, ushering in a presence we had been eagerly awaiting. I knew our leader would not iet us down. He walked in with his flowing agbada whilst is entourage, like docile lambs followed him.
We received silence from him. His face couldn't describe the horrors we had seen yet he stood by, arms crossed as he addressed each patient. He moved toward Grandma and offered his condolence. Her eyes had travelled beyond the walls of the ward, back to the night we were attacked. Grandma's glacial stare seemed to question them silently. Where were they when the Night men stormed our homes and slaughtered our families?
I saw through Grandma's eyes the pain of a mother and the loss of a father. She had been failed by our leaders yet again.
