Chapter 5: A Peaceful Home, A Soldier's Duty
For a time, the family lived in peace. It was a simple peace—not the kind found in wealth or luxury, but in routine. In shared meals, the smell of firewood in the morning, and the sound of children playing barefoot in the compound.
Mary was still young, but even then, she understood the rhythm of their days. Her mother was the center of it all—cooking, cleaning, guiding, correcting. Her father, though quiet, was a steady presence. He had strong hands, a firm voice, and a calm way of solving problems. The children respected him. They felt safe under his roof.
But life has a way of changing when you least expect it.
It began with a letter. Folded neatly, delivered by hand, it bore the stamp of the government and carried a message that would change everything: Mary's father had been appointed into the Nigerian military. A post of honor. A sign of trust. It meant stability for the family—but also sacrifice.
At first, everyone celebrated. Neighbors came to offer congratulations. His name was spoken with pride. But when it came time for him to leave, the mood shifted. The house felt colder the night before his departure. Mary watched as her mother quietly packed his things, folding each item with care. No one said much, but the silence was loud.
The morning he left, he wore his uniform for the first time. The children stood in a line, unsure of what to feel. He hugged each of them, saving Mary for last. He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Take care of your mother."
Then he was gone.
Without him, the household grew heavier. There were more chores. Less laughter. Mary's mother tried to stay strong, but the weight of raising eight children alone began to show. Her smiles faded. Her voice lost its warmth. At night, Mary sometimes heard her crying in the next room.
Though she couldn't fully grasp it yet, Mary knew one thing: something had shifted. Her childhood—once warm and whole—had taken its first step into hardship.
And she would never forget it.