NII COMMEY HANDWRITING

  But Like a tale, tens and thousands of sprouting and ripened souls  wiped off the surface of the earth The ramifications of ethnocentricity were silently loud in the cities   A promise etched in hearts so deep! The horrors seen; the blood-stained atmosphere witnessed- The palpability of unfolding events, outdoing the human mind. The smell of blood; the sound of cries; The distorted stories that unwound minds;  prejudiced perceptions; and manipulated attitudes which abruptly made lovers turn into foes, and friends, FIENDS. Never again shall a story of a loving people be distortedly engraved in such an unsightly sight of agony. Never again shall the forces of darkness whisper a litany of untruths in our ears Never again shall the shadows of the past cast a slur on us Never again shall a united people be scattered with the brazen sharpness of machetes, hammers, and clubs to the point of soiling the soils and streets with the blood of innocent soul...

The time was 5pm in Sekoukou, a village near La Tillaberi in the outskirt of Niamey, Niger. The sun was, as expected,  generously smiling at 42  °C. The hot semi-arid vast last stared at us with the absorbing heat from the graves of the sahel- soil, beckoning us into it's embrace. T he indigenes, predominantly, sorghum and millet farmers had just returned from their respective farms, some, with the help of their  camels  or donkeys to till the land and to carry heavy loads.  My mission was to do series of  impact stories of social interventions with beneficiaries of a green hydrogen project currently providing them electricity and potable water through solar installation and execution. While you may think French is a given language  in Niger, the people of Sekoukou only speak Zarma and Hausa- the two most dominant  local languages . So, obviously I was bereft of my my hope to tap into  my elementary French to str...