Jos town, Plateau State.
The white Jetta car parked a few meters from the Islamic school, the engine left idling. It was still early morning with the sun barely caressing the horizon in a subtle wakeup call to the inhabitants around.
Haram reached to the back seat from the passenger side where he was seated and picked up the RPG rifle. He carefully lifted it above his friend, Sura’s head who was furtively scanning the surroundings, a gun clutched in his sweaty hand in a lame attempt to provide security.
Haram giggled at his friend Sura who tried not to appear nervous. Who were they kidding? They were as nervous as a teenager in love and as high as a well-flown kite. The latter was as a result of their stopover at a local bar to drown a few shots of the local brew that burned the throat and stung the eyes.
They needed steady nerves for this assignment.
It was easy tossing a dynamite or two into a few churches and making a quick getaway or even the greatest sacrifice for the Jihad was admissible as long as the project involved infidels and unbelievers who hated Allah and his servants. However, taking a shot at the intellectual sanctum of a Muslim school was taking it a bit too far. Even if the said Muslim was a sympathizer of the infidels.
There were no virgin rewards for this one. Haram mused as he got out of the car the RPG rifle hidden by his side as he quickly scanned the area.
Clear.
He had received a short training on the RPG rifle just days ago. The rocket-propelled grenade was a shoulder anti aircraft rifle that released a hell of a shell that disintegrated at approximately 10 meters. At this distance the Islamic school had no chance, Haram reasoned.
He steadied the rifle on his shoulder with the butt balancing lightly on the top of the car and the open passenger side door and aimed. Haram squinted into the telescopic sight, breathed out softly and slowly squeezed the trigger.
A sudden scream rent the quiet morning air and startled both men.
They reacted differently. Sura still on the driver’s seat with the car engine still running stepped on the accelerator out of reflex. The car lurched forward dragging Haram forward with it as he pulled the trigger.
The 7 kg rifle jerked sideways and discharged its deadly content into the air. The rifle recoil hit the passenger door like a hammer and the windscreen shattered. Haram panicked, dropped the smoking rifle, ducked into the car and shouted for Sura to drive off.
The grenade shell sailed through the air, missing the Islamic school completely and disappearing beneath the town roofline.
The car sped away as the village came alive with noise. Women began to scream as the grenade exploded somewhere. Some young men gave chase to the car but got nowhere near it before it disappeared into the distance.
A mother wailed carrying the gory remains of a half burned child. Blood and flesh hung loosely from the bleeding child as he hung lifeless.
He was only 10 years old.
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