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Autobiography - original writing.

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Autobiography I lived in the south west of Lagos, a state in Nigeria, where you can hear your skin hissing and your lips crackling from the heat. In the sky, there are few clouds in sight, just friendly birds flying over the heat waves. In the distance you can see the modern buildings wobble in front of your very eyes. It must have been in the middle of May, the hottest month in the year, when the people in my house and outside, started to act differently. Nobody would tell us what was happening because we were the youngest and they thought that we would not have understood it. My parents and nearly all of my other relatives came to our mansion and helped us pack our belongings. We, the youngsters had no idea what was going on. The next day, we heard a gunshot. A few seconds later we heard more gunfire. ...read more.


The rivals blocked all the roads. This meant that they could not have used cars to get away. They had to run under the sweltering, hot sun and the incandescent moon. If the rivals had caught them they would have been shot on the spot. This civil war took place because of the differences between clans. The Yoruba clan did not like the ideal of the Hawusa clan ruling the country. I belong to the Yoruba clan. This two clan fought to see who was the strongest. There were other clans but their size was significant in comparison to the two major contributors to this civil war. In the end, we destroyed the ground that we stood on. When the Hawusa came into Barewe, we had to pretend that we belonged to a different group when they asked us questions. If we had to told the truth about ourselves, they would have had no regrets in killing us, despite the fact that we were all females and children. ...read more.


We could not have all fitted in the plane at once; the aircraft only carry twenty passengers at one time. We had to make our journeys split up into small groups. When the aircraft took off from the ground and we were half way to our destination, all I could think of was where we were going to and what was in store for us. I was worried about what we would do when we arrived, where we would stay, whether my family was safe and mostly what was happening to our motherland. A few months later, I feel lost living in a land where you have to speak another language, where religion are different, the law system is foreign and the lifestyle takes on completely new meaning. Some nights, just before I go to bed, I pray to the almighty God that one day my homeland will have all the natural beauty it holds restored once again and be peaceful. There is no place like home. There is no place like home. There is no place like home. By Funsho Adebayo ...read more.

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