Ojone was just a month plus old.
She was wailing and weeping. Nobody could stop her tears. Mama tried to lull her to sleep, she wouldn’t stop crying.
The enemies were fast approaching and absolute quiet was needed. The cave we camped became more terrifying.
Since Ojone wouldn’t stop crying, the men leading us had only one choice…to silence her their own way.
And suddenly, I watched my only sister strangled to death by her own fathers.
Her last voice trailed into the darkest silence with a painful echo.
War is sweet only to those who haven’t experienced it.