The Night The Canal Fed (Pdf)

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The fire came like a living thing, spewing out of the earth, spitting flames into the sky so high no bird could fly through it. It built towers of heat, thick with smoke, choking out even the stars. The ground trembled like it was afraid. We thought the world would open and swallow us.

Each blast cracked the sky wide open. Every explosion sent us, friends, family, neighbors, all diving for cover like hunted animals. We scattered without thought, like sand thrown into the wind. People ran blindly, stumbling into the bush, tearing through thorns and undergrowth. Blood marked our escape, smeared along hidden paths now made visible by panic.

The children were the first to fall. Their deaths were the beginning of something worse. When the little ones started dying, their parents, mothers and fathers ran back into the fire to save them. They could have survived, but they never returned. Others lived long enough to die slowly, killed not by bombs, but by grief. Some died a day laters, bodies intact, but spirits shattered.

The worst part? Many of them watched it happen. That kind of pain settles deep in the bones

Even now, nearly twenty years later, some of those parents still mourn.

I remember some of us, myself included, slipping into the swamp that stretched between Anthony Village, Ajao Estate, and Gbagada. It was dusk, but it felt like night had fallen forever.

Inside the barracks, the slaughter was already underway. At least two people, maybe more, were cut down without mercy. No one gathered their bodies. No wake. No funeral. Just silence and smoke. They were lost, and we knew we’d never bury them.

Word spread fast. People from far off, thinking our area might be safer, flooded toward us. They came by the hundreds, clinging to hope. They gathered around the banana plantations near the canal. But hope turned to terror. Panic took over. People slipped into the water, screaming. The canal opened its mouth and drank blood like wine.

The waters once familiar turned hostile, hungry. People were swallowed whole. Others crawled out broken bones snapped, faces bloodied, bodies torn. The screams were endless. We couldn’t count the wounded. We didn’t try.

No one could record it. We had no proof. No phones. No cameras. No witness but our own memory. And what good is memory when the sky itself is falling?

And in all of it, no one mentioned the animals. Not the goats. Not the dogs. Not even the fowls that clucked around our compounds daily. They were gone, too. Lost. Erased, like they never existed.

We, the ones living near the Army Cantonment, bore the brunt. We were the ones marked. The ones fed to the canal.

And the worst of it? No one ever told us why.

We returned home desolate and shattered. Bombing’s never an affair to toil! It would be good that we make the mouthpiece to discouraging our teaming youth who felt that fighting might be the way out of their struggles at any point in time.

War and the Canal are comparable to a harlot, especially when the said involved attacking the opponent with objects, the worst been shooting of guns and applying explosives of any kind.

Bomb would break a large part of the ground, raise the dust above ground level, burn the sand up in her heat that formed within the igniting elements, burning up and pouring out the combustion to hit any object which is standing above the ground level, renting it into parts until it turned into a wreck. It turns the object of target into a complete powder or mere particles. The combusting gasses within it is the combination of explosive elements that take the advantage of air, pulling it together, heating it up in fire and other poisonous gasses, releasing it all into a greater air environment to damage any upright standing object around.

The particles of the elements are very much deadly, the toxic components destroy health. It could only be felt within the gasses atmosphere, unfortunately, there’s not an animal that survived within the circumference because the gas choked, clogged, spewed debris, hot shells, hot particles, poisoned the air to damage respiratory organs, blind eyes, deaf the ears, break the skin, cut the bone and overall attack the heart.

There was no war, they said. No enemy nation. No declared battle.

Some officers ruined in a crash and it was inside this same canal extension. This canal is truly feeding on people in Lagos state as far as feeding on humans is concern. The bomb explosions, being another sudden incident which claimed lives, still sent 'Lagosians' into the same canal.

I was looking unkept and different. My parents had gone searching for me everywhere, but couldn't find me anywhere closer because I had gone into the swamps behind the campground. Here I am, feeling terrified because I have seen an attack that scared me so much today! The blasts in her magnitude, slew people and wrecked properties, yet we couldn't identify anyone who was doing this to us. We were so distressed to have run this far!

A team of bold and determined to survive, we were memorising our lord’s prayer repeatedly as we went on. We depended on our mind map although, I wouldn’t know what runs in the mind of the others.

 A True Life Story of January 2002.💣💥😭😭😭

Opeyemi Peter Odeseyi: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Opeyemi+Peter+Odeseyi&crid=5WUM4809K9VN&sprefix=Opeyemi+Peter+Odeseyi%2Cbooks%2C761&ref=nb_sb_noss

Opeyemi Peter Odeseyi: The Night The Canal Fed In Lagos 2002 

 https://a.co/d/i0OGCVX

Opeyemi Peter Odeseyi: Boy: Book 1 

 https://a.co/d/hiIfxYR

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Confession time, I stumbled on your book on Amazon and honestly I didn’t expect to get pulled in the way I did, but wow… you actually did it, creating a story with depth, emotion, and characters that truly feel alive, the kind of book that makes you pause, reflect, smile in some moments, hold your breath in others, and even go back to reread lines that stay with you long after; that kind of impact is rare and shows how much heart you poured into this work...".

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This real-life story of trauma is raw, honest, and deeply moving. The way the author shares their journey through pain, struggle, and ultimately, redemption is both inspiring and life-changing. What touched me most was how God was present in every chapter—offering strength, comfort, and purpose in the midst of darkness. It's a reminder that even in our lowest moments, there is hope and healing through faith. A must-read for anyone who has walked through trauma or is searching for light in the storm."

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