A MIRACLE BEYOND CHANCE
NIGERIA -BIAFRA CIVIL WAR 1967-1970:
A MIRACLE BEYOND CHANCE
By Austin Okeke Esq
It was in 1967; the Nigerian civil war had long begun. The Biafrans were fighting for self-determination. The constitution of Nigeria made provisions for any of the three regions to secede should it become necessary.
My parents were in Lagos when the war engulfed the entire country; they somehow managed to escape to Enugu, the then capital city of the then Eastern Region of Nigeria, and the capital city of the Republic of Biafra at the time.
Just as my parents, my older sister, my older brother (toddlers then) and myself tied to the back of our mother, we arrived at our home town, unbeknownst to us that the area had been occupied by the then Nigerian soldiers.
There came a sudden bomb explosion right in front of my grandfather’s house, commotion all over the place, people screaming in agony, and they scampered for safety, human flesh strewn on the ground, panic and evil unleashed. Dead bodies all over the place.
A little boy of only six months tied to the back of his mother was ripped and wounded by shrapnel as a result of the bomb blast; his left arm was shattered and dangling from the tiny strand of flesh that held it from falling off, internal bleeding confirmed, his back gushing blood from two shrapnel that had penetrated him. His mother was hit by just one shrapnel round to her back.
They were rushed to the nearest make-shift clinic run by the Red Cross, which was poorly equipped, as you could imagine, because of the war. The clinics were inundated with similar casualties and could only eke out treatments that were not any near the modern day first aid.
As soon as they arrived at the clinic, the six-month-old boy was declared and certified dead by the international medical doctors who ran the clinic; he was then dumped amongst the heap of other dead bodies just in front of a fully booked cold morgue.
The practice during the war was to bury the bodies in a mass grave – typical of war situations.
The six-month-old was wrapped in a white cloth, his nose and ear stuffed with cotton wool just like dead bodies are usually dressed, and a name tag tied to the knotted white cloth, waiting to be buried in a mass grave alongside others.
His parents came back later on the same day in the evening, because they had planned for him to be buried in a private cemetery to accord him a lasting dignity.
By the time his parents arrived at the clinic, more bodies had been heaped on top of this six-month-old boy; they had to practically move over other dead bodies to find him. At last, they did.
In the process, they noticed a slight movement inside the white cloth that was used in wrapping him; they immediately reported their experience to the medical team, but were dismissed with indifference. They were told that it is normal for contraction to occur after someone has died.
They went back again to where the six-month-old was, picked him so to proceed to the cemetery, but there again was a slight movement inside the white cloth they had used in wrapping him.
This time, his parents raised a rather deep, ecstatic, triumphant, and hopeful but shocking alarm which became a cry for help!!!
The six-month-old boy had come back to life!
The doctors untied him from the white cloth, unblocked his nose and ear, and tore open the large blood vessel in his ankle to pump in blood and drip because other veins were already dead by then. They pumped in both blood and drips, pounded his chest, turned him upside down to allow dead cells (turned soggy) to escape through his nose and mouth. That was how I was resurrected.
The shrapnel is still inside my body and has organically become part of my spine and my body in general. I walk around with it, and sometimes it causes indescribable and excruciating pain each time it scratches my bone.
My father also got hit by one shrapnel in the whole commotion, but it was minor; my mother, too, was hit by one similarly minor shrapnel.
The three shrapnel that hit me were headed straight to my mother’s lungs and internal organs, but for the fact that I was tied to her back. Just imagine my position at her back for you to understand that I practically took the bullets for my mother.
By the way, my late grandfather, whose house was destroyed by the explosion, willed the portion of land to me before he died in 1987. I am now replacing his turned-down house with a modern duplex in his honour.
I was only a six-month-old toddler at the time.
I AM AUSTIN OKEKE ESQ
I thank you.
30 May 2026
Dear Readers, Good and credible news reportage is tedious task and requires huge finances.
We are soliciting your Noble support for as low as N1,000 your support would go a long way in assisting us to continue to guarantee our readers quality news.
Bank transfers can be made to:
Account Name: Harvest and Commercial
Bank: Sterling Bank
Account Number: 0078627735