The main road in the town of Bunkure was filled with crowds of people, their faces showing fear and confusion. Some were running, others lay on the ground near a large vehicle. There, I noticed a little girl—no more than three years old—sitting beside a car, screaming. Her whole body trembled, and though she cried, no sound came out anymore because she had cried until she was exhausted.
Suddenly—Daaam!!!—another explosion sounded. People began running again. The little girl, who had begun to doze off, jumped up in fright and screamed. No one paid attention to her; everyone was concerned only with saving themselves. She kept shouting “Mommy! Daddy!” while running. A car sped into the area, and she ran toward it, banging on it and crying, “Daddy! Daddy!” She was desperately searching for her parents, but there was no trace of them. The place was in chaos after what seemed to be a bomb blast, like a disaster sent upon the people.
She ran toward a man, calling “Daddy!” He turned in shock when he saw her. As he prepared to speak, gunshots suddenly erupted—tas! tas! tas!—and the area filled with smoke.
The girl, soaked in urine and bleeding from the mouth, stood trembling. The man, terrified, bolted and began to run. She followed him, crying “Daddy! Daddy!” Soldiers stormed in, shooting as they ran. The man made a sharp turn, and the girl followed, screaming. She reached where he hid and touched him, saying “Daddy… Momma…”
He pushed her away and snapped, “This is trouble! Where are your parents? In a situation like this? Carelessness!” He shoved her again, telling her to leave the area. She ran off, limping from a pain in her leg. A boy appeared, panting, and collided with her. She fell to the ground. As she tried to get up, a bullet whizzed past her—God saved her from being hit, but the shock made her faint. The man, feeling pity, emerged from hiding, picked her up, and ran.
After running far, he reached his parked vehicle—a goods transport vehicle—and placed her in front. Four children were already inside the back of the truck, crying. He asked, “Where are your parents?” One smart child replied, “We came here to hide.” The others only cried, their bodies dusty and slightly bloodied. The man shook his head, got into the vehicle, and drove off.
Arrival at Mangalu Village
He started the vehicle and sped toward his village. After one and a half hours of driving, he reached Mangalu village under Bunkure Local Government. He drove straight to the motor park. He opened the truck, brought the children out, and then went back to get the girl—but she was gone. He searched everywhere but didn’t see her. Shock spread across his face. “Could she be a spirit? Maybe she vanished… maybe she came down as an apparition,” he muttered while searching, but she was nowhere.
The market chief ran to him.
“Malam Lado, what am I hearing? They said a bomb exploded in town—is it true?”
“Yes, it’s true, Sarkin Kasuwa. Wallahi, I was terrified. I was carrying goods to the market when the explosion happened. We saw real horror—people died. I barely escaped. And sadly, I saw a little girl searching for her parents. She kept following me out of pity, so I carried her. But strangely, when we reached here, after I dropped the other children, she disappeared.”
“Allahu Akbar, may God protect us,” said the market chief.
Malam Lado handed the four children to the market chief, giving him ₦1,000 to take them to the police station in Bunkure so their parents might be found. The chief instructed Dahiru to watch over them and feed them. He and Malam Lado continued searching for the missing girl but couldn’t find her.
After returning, they found the children had eaten and rested. They got into the vehicle again. As they drove along the main road—suddenly—the market chief spotted the little girl at the roadside, holding half a loaf of bread, eating and crying.
He asked, “Isn’t that her?”
Malam Lado replied, “That’s her.”
They stopped immediately and found her burning with fever. They carried her and went straight to the police station, reporting the missing children due to the bomb blast. Their names and photos were taken. Because the market chief lived nearby, he was instructed to keep the children at his home while the police announced the search for their parents.
Malam Lado also left to report everything to the village head.
Description
Chaos on the Main Road
The main road in the town of Bunkure was filled with crowds of people, their faces showing fear and confusion. Some were running, others lay on the ground near a large vehicle. There, I noticed a little girl—no more than three years old—sitting beside a car, screaming. Her whole body trembled, and though she cried, no sound came out anymore because she had cried until she was exhausted.
Suddenly—Daaam!!!—another explosion sounded. People began running again. The little girl, who had begun to doze off, jumped up in fright and screamed. No one paid attention to her; everyone was concerned only with saving themselves. She kept shouting “Mommy! Daddy!” while running. A car sped into the area, and she ran toward it, banging on it and crying, “Daddy! Daddy!” She was desperately searching for her parents, but there was no trace of them. The place was in chaos after what seemed to be a bomb blast, like a disaster sent upon the people.
She ran toward a man, calling “Daddy!” He turned in shock when he saw her. As he prepared to speak, gunshots suddenly erupted—tas! tas! tas!—and the area filled with smoke.
The girl, soaked in urine and bleeding from the mouth, stood trembling. The man, terrified, bolted and began to run. She followed him, crying “Daddy! Daddy!” Soldiers stormed in, shooting as they ran. The man made a sharp turn, and the girl followed, screaming. She reached where he hid and touched him, saying “Daddy… Momma…”
He pushed her away and snapped, “This is trouble! Where are your parents? In a situation like this? Carelessness!” He shoved her again, telling her to leave the area. She ran off, limping from a pain in her leg. A boy appeared, panting, and collided with her. She fell to the ground. As she tried to get up, a bullet whizzed past her—God saved her from being hit, but the shock made her faint. The man, feeling pity, emerged from hiding, picked her up, and ran.
After running far, he reached his parked vehicle—a goods transport vehicle—and placed her in front. Four children were already inside the back of the truck, crying. He asked, “Where are your parents?” One smart child replied, “We came here to hide.” The others only cried, their bodies dusty and slightly bloodied. The man shook his head, got into the vehicle, and drove off.
Arrival at Mangalu Village
He started the vehicle and sped toward his village. After one and a half hours of driving, he reached Mangalu village under Bunkure Local Government. He drove straight to the motor park. He opened the truck, brought the children out, and then went back to get the girl—but she was gone. He searched everywhere but didn’t see her. Shock spread across his face. “Could she be a spirit? Maybe she vanished… maybe she came down as an apparition,” he muttered while searching, but she was nowhere.
The market chief ran to him.
“Malam Lado, what am I hearing? They said a bomb exploded in town—is it true?”
“Yes, it’s true, Sarkin Kasuwa. Wallahi, I was terrified. I was carrying goods to the market when the explosion happened. We saw real horror—people died. I barely escaped. And sadly, I saw a little girl searching for her parents. She kept following me out of pity, so I carried her. But strangely, when we reached here, after I dropped the other children, she disappeared.”
“Allahu Akbar, may God protect us,” said the market chief.
Malam Lado handed the four children to the market chief, giving him ₦1,000 to take them to the police station in Bunkure so their parents might be found. The chief instructed Dahiru to watch over them and feed them. He and Malam Lado continued searching for the missing girl but couldn’t find her.
After returning, they found the children had eaten and rested. They got into the vehicle again. As they drove along the main road—suddenly—the market chief spotted the little girl at the roadside, holding half a loaf of bread, eating and crying.
He asked, “Isn’t that her?”
Malam Lado replied, “That’s her.”
They stopped immediately and found her burning with fever. They carried her and went straight to the police station, reporting the missing children due to the bomb blast. Their names and photos were taken. Because the market chief lived nearby, he was instructed to keep the children at his home while the police announced the search for their parents.
Malam Lado also left to report everything to the village head.