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Bang! Bang! Bang!
More thunder.
"Allah ya'kawo ruwa! Allah ya'kawo ruwa! God bring the rains! God bring the rains," they shout. "Let the rains come! Let the rains come!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Jacob rushes back into the house and clutches my thighs.
"What is the matter?" I ask.
And then the unmistakeable sound of roaring engines not far away. And of screaming children. And of angry guns.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
And of ferocious men.
"Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar!" they shout. "Allah is great! Allah is great!"
We scramble outside after the first firebomb lights our thatched roof. Papa reaches for his machete leaning against the wall in the veranda. The man on the motorbike fires his gun.
Bang!
No time for me to think or feel as Papa drops to the floor. The men on motorbikes are everywhere, firing their weapons in the air.
Men, women, boys, and girls scatter out of their homes and toward the hills.
Boko Haram is in our village.
Excerpted from the book Buried Beneath the Baobab Tree by Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani. Copyright © 2018 by Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani. Reprinted with permission of Katherine Tegen Books / HarperCollins Children's Books.
He has only half learned the art of reading who has not added to it the more refined art of skipping and skimming
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