A monument of an unbelievable sacrifice

A monument of an unbelievable sacrifice

The Fallout of a Single Event

As I stood in front of the old, dilapidated house that seemed like a house of monument, I was overcome with a sense of unease. It was clear that this place had seen better days, the peeling paint, broken windows and crumbling walls were proof of that. But something did not seem right here, as if there was a deeper story behind the decay. 

I turned to my friend Ndubuisi, who had brought me here. "What happened here?" I asked curiously.
He paused for a while as his expression became serious. "If I had asked you this question a few months ago, you would probably have said that the house was being renovated", he began, "but that was far from the truth".

As he spoke, I noticed a sadness in his eyes that I had never seen before. He took a deep breath before continuing. "This house was once a haven for many, a place where families lived and loved. But then the world stood still for hours, and the fate of the people was decided". My heart began to race as I listened to his words, for I did not know where this story would lead.

"Lives were changed forever in this house", Ndubuisi said quietly, his voice full of emotion. "Fathers lost their sons, mothers became widows and children were left without fathers. The breadwinners of the families said goodbye to life and willingly sacrificed themselves for a greater cause".

I felt a lump forming in my throat as I tried to process what Ndubuisi was telling me. "What cause?" I asked with my voice barely in muted tones. Ndubuisi's eyes met mine, full of determination and sadness. the cause of freedom,' he said with a certain pride. These men have paid the exorbitant price for us to enjoy our lives in freedom. That we can visit places like Aguorie, Nkutume Guest House and Eke utali Joint without fear of oppression.

I remembered the carefree nights I had spent with friends in these places. How could I be so blind to the sacrifices made for my freedom? But then the words of Ndubuisi hit me even harder. "Even the prodigal sons were not left out," he said with a slight tremor in his voice. "Men who had strayed from the path of righteousness found redemption in their last moments. They fought alongside their brothers because they knew they were fighting for a cause greater than themselves".

Tears stung my eyes as I looked at the house in front of me with a new understanding. This place was not just a dilapidated building, but a monument to sacrifice, a reminder of the price of freedom. It is the desire of everyone of us to free and liberated from every indirect form of slavery. For the love of our dear fatherland, people who have never been to the military fought with every breathe in them. "These men will never be forgotten", Ndubuisi said with conviction. "Their struggle and sacrifice will never be in vain".

As we stood in front of the old house that seemed to be a house monument, I could not help but feel a sense of gratitude and awe for the brave people who had laid down their lives. I vowed never to take my freedom for granted and to always remember the sacrifices that were made for it.
And when we left the house, I knew that I would carry this story with me and share it with others so that the memory of these heroes would live on.

© Prisca Onyinye Nwokorie

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