Brevity Bard

The refugee camp in Douala was a sprawling settlement of makeshift tents and temporary shelters, filled with people who, like Chima and Obi, had been uprooted by the war. The camp buzzed with activity—children playing, aid workers distributing supplies, and families huddled together, each with their own story of loss and survival. For Chima and Obi, this was the final leg of a long and painful journey. As they walked through the camp, guided by an aid worker, Chima’s heart raced with a mix of hope and anxiety. The letter they had received had been vague—only mentioning a surviving relative. Chima had spent countless nights imagining who it could be, but nothing could prepare him for the reality they were about to face. Obi, now a young man, walked beside his brother, his eyes scanning the faces around them. Despite the hardships they had endured, he had grown into a resilient and optimistic individual, always ready to support his brother. “Do you think it could be him?” Obi asked quiet

The Cameroonian village of Ekok welcomed Chima and Obi with an embrace of warmth and compassion. The village, nestled near the border, was a haven for refugees fleeing the horrors of war. The air was filled with the sounds of daily life—children playing, adults chatting, and the hum of activity as the villagers went about their routines. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Chima and Obi could breathe without the constant fear of being hunted. Mr. Tankeu, a tall man with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor, was among the first to greet them. He had been a teacher before the war and had since dedicated his life to helping those who sought refuge in Ekok. His home, modest but welcoming, became a sanctuary for Chima and Obi. The boys, exhausted and grieving, found solace in the stability that Mr. Tankeu offered. Chima, now the head of his fractured family, felt the weight of his new responsibilities pressing down on him. His thoughts were a whirlwind of memories—his mother’s teac

The forest’s edge loomed before them, the towering trees thinning to reveal the open expanse of land that stretched toward the border. The border itself was a chaotic scene, with a throng of desperate refugees pushing forward, trying to cross into Cameroon. The promise of safety lay just beyond, but Nneka knew that reaching it would be the greatest challenge of their lives. Every step was a battle for Nneka, her body weakened by the venom coursing through her veins. She leaned heavily on Chima, her breath coming in labored gasps as she forced herself to keep moving. Each glance back at Obi, whose small hand clutched hers tightly, fueled her resolve to push forward. She could feel the life draining from her, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it end here, not until her children were safe. Aunty Ngozi, her face a mask of determination, led the way. She had seen the signs: the increasing presence of soldiers, the distant rumble of vehicles, and the oppressive silence that followed. She knew th

The small village nestled in the heart of the forest offered a fleeting sense of safety, a refuge from the relentless chase that had become Nneka and her children’s life. The villagers, led by a kind-hearted woman named Aunty Ngozi, welcomed them with open arms, providing food, warm clothing, and a place to rest their weary bodies. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the family could breathe without the constant fear of being hunted. Nneka, however, could not ignore the growing weakness in her body. The relentless journey, the loss of Ugo, and the toll of being constantly on the run had left her physically and emotionally drained. As she sat by the small fire in Aunty Ngozi’s hut, her vision blurred, and her limbs felt heavy. She tried to hide her discomfort from the children, but Chima’s sharp eyes missed nothing. “Mama, you should rest,” Chima urged, his voice filled with concern as he knelt beside her. “We’re safe here for now. Let us take care of you.” Nneka forced a

The journey had taken a toll on Nneka’s family, both physically and emotionally. The forest, once a place of refuge, had become a relentless test of endurance. Nneka, Chima, Emeka, and little Obi pressed on, their steps growing more labored with each passing day. The memory of Ugo’s loss was still fresh, and Nneka could feel the weight of grief threatening to pull her under, but she refused to let it consume her. She had to stay strong for her remaining children, even as her own strength began to wane. The terrain grew more treacherous as they ventured deeper into the wilderness, the undergrowth thickening and the ground becoming uneven. Every step was a struggle, and Nneka could feel her body protesting under the strain. Her legs ached, her breathing was labored, and a persistent cough had begun to rattle in her chest. But she kept moving, driven by the unyielding determination to see her children to safety. Chima had taken on more responsibility, his once youthful demeanor now harden

The alleyway was a maze of narrow passages, its shadows concealing Nneka and her children as they slipped through the bustling market. The soldiers’ voices echoed behind them, barking orders and demanding answers from the traders. Nneka's heart raced with fear, but she forced herself to focus, knowing that their survival depended on her quick thinking and calm demeanor. As they emerged from the alley, Mama Chidi led them through a series of winding paths, her familiarity with the town providing a much-needed advantage. Nneka followed closely, clutching the small bundle of medicine she had managed to procure from a sympathetic trader who had taken pity on her plight. They reached the outskirts of town, where the forest loomed once more, offering its sheltering embrace. Nneka breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped beneath the canopy, the familiar scents and sounds wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. But there was no time to rest; Ugo’s condition was worsening, and ever