The recent bomb attack by the  Boko Haram sect  on  Kano has made it one attack too many. The   bombing attacks on  lives and properties have left the society devastated and  people living in fear. Worst hit are  mothers who bear the pain and grief of  the loss of their  loved ones. To this set of people life  seems worthless. TOLUWANI OLAMITOKE recounts the harrowing experience   of these women. Excerpts:

WITH the recurring incident of  bomb    attacks by   the Boko Haram sect on  some  Northern states of  Nigeria, the sleep of Nigeria no doubt has  been  murdered.  The   peace of the society has been eroded.

No one is  excluded— Yoruba, Hausa or Igbo; male and female; the young and promising; the old and wise, all have  fallen victim of these attacks. Shattered and battered  are the state of millions  in the society who are left to mourn the loss of  their loved ones. The break of  each day  offers no comfort  or warmth, it’s rather  embraced  with  fear and hopelessness.

In every  home  where  there was   a victim,  laughter has long ceased, smiles have been  wiped off  faces that were   once glowing.       Wailing and mourning  have taken root. In sorrow,  heads  are bowed, with pain hearts are left heavy.

The  once sonorous  sound of  music in these homes  has turned into a dirge. Nothing seems to  comfort.

But who are the chief mourners? These are mothers  who  are yet to wake up to that  reality that their loved ones are gone. Their   breadwinners, best halves and best friends are gone without  bidding them bye. These have lost their  children who  were ones their dreams fulfilled, their future.

Like  the dart of a sword in the heart, the Boko Haram  attacks have left  mothers’  hearts bleeding,  their  lives sorrowing.

Tears had   flown freely  in Abuja as sympathisers and relations of victims of the UN building  bomb blast of August 26 relived  memories   during the  burial  service held for the victims. It was a very solemn occasion and the atmosphere was  sombre.

To Mama Iliya, a middle-aged widow from the North who had  lost her husband three months  ago and  now  her first child in the  blast, the  future is nothing but bleak.

With sorrow  written all over her and  in  an emotionally laden voice she lamented, “My son Iliya was  among  those killed by the bomb blast. He was the first of my eight children and  was the breadwinner of the family. Illiya has been killed  by the wicked ones and  has left  behind in a hopeless state a pregnant  wife and  five children.”

“Who will take care of his seven brothers, five children and his pregnant wife?”, she had repeatedly asked, looking  lost  and alone  with no word seeming to  comfort her.
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If  asked to offer   something else in  stead of  the life of her only  son who  died  in the Christmas Day bomb blast at St. Theresa’s Catholic Church, Madalla, Niger State,  Mrs Ebiawaguen would have willingly done so, but today she’s left with a  bleeding heart. Ebiawaguen  has been    left inconsolable  since the news of the  tragic  event  which the    church   found  a difficult  task  breaking to her,  knowing Peter  was her only child. But this shocking news eventually    filtered to her.
Mrs Ebiawaguen, soaked in tears, had  rushed  to the  scene rolling and   wailing uncontrollably while it took efforts  of the  women   sympathising with her  to carry  her out  of the scene.
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Agony,  seems to be the best word to describe what Mrs Dike who lost her  husband and five children in the Madalla bombing is  going through. She has cried herself to a state of stupor since the tragic event.
All her family members but her had left  home  for the  6:30 am mass  on Christmas Day. She bid them bye and  went putting things in place  to celebrate the day. Her plan was to  attend the  second mass, but Mrs Dike never made the second mass, neither is she ever going to set  her eyes again on some members of her family—her husband and five of her children. The Christmas Day bombing  no   doubt has changed   her  joyous song to a dirge.
Disconsolate, and addressing no one  in particular, her voice quivered,“I have lost my husband and my children. I have lost all. My life is empty and void. I don’t know where to go now. No husband and no child; where do I start my life? Somebody should tell me. Am I  dreaming?”
Two of Dike’s children    survived the  blast; her  first son, Martins,  and Favour, his sister. But these lie at the  Kubwa Hospital  and National Hospital,  Abuja, with  serious injuries.
She often bursts into tears as she speaks and like  the other women in her shoes, she  has continuously stared into the air asking; “Where am I going to start from? I have no work, no husband, what future do I have?”
Even her husband  siblings and relatives who have been around to console her in their pensive mood  could offer no answer to her questions.  Mrs Dike at the spot where she found her husband’s burnt car had she cried out in her local language, “Williams, ebee k’ino din. Darling, ebee k’ino” (Williams, where are you? Darling, where are you?). It took much effort by   her relations to move her off the spot.
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The most recent  Boko Haram attack on Friday 20 January had  like others   left its   pains. For  many women  like Mrs Salamatu Ciroma who have lost their  loved ones in the attack, that  day    was  cursed. More than a week after the horrifying event, 32- year-old  Salamatu Ciroma still remains  dazed and  devastated. She  gives an account of how  the event of a seemingly  lovely day had turned sour.
She recalled her last encounter with her husband who worked at the   Society for Family Health, Kano.  She tells her story of woe.
“On  Friday I noticed my husband was  exceptionally happy. He was in a good mood. He was cracking jokes with me  and played with the children.
“Before leaving for work, he gave me money to have my hair done. This was in addition to what he normally gave  me for my breakfast. I thanked him and he left for work.”
Looking lost she continued: ”I was expecting his call later in the day as  was his practice, but he didn’t call.
“I became  more worried at  the news of bomb blast which I learnt had claimed many lives in the city.
“I called his friend but he didn’t say anything  definite while my husband lines were no more  reachable.
“I  became more afraid  at the thought of  losing him, my children were already crying asking for their father.
“When he failed to return home that night, I  knew  I was in the soup. That  night  I  knew   my husband was dead.  It  was as if  I was   in a trance,  I saw  his corpse, he was soaked in his blood.”
“She stopped, sobbed and continued:”We have gone everywhere looking for his body  but couldn’t find him,”  Salamatu  said.