It was a hot, quiet, lazy Sunday afternoon. Many of the villagers were seated outside under the shade of the trees or shade provided by houses that had not been burnt during the attack. The renowned cool and pleasant weather the Jos-Plateau people were accustomed to was just a dream. The air was still and only the troublesome flies flew around like nothing had happened. The town had an eerie feeling to it; it was a ghost town. The air was still slightly hazy from several structures that were still smoking. Shattered louvers, burnt zinc roofing sheets, charred wood and pieces of iron and metal that had not been destroyed was all that remained of the once lively and bubbly community. The villagers looked discouraged and sad. Understandably so since loved ones had been rudely snatched away just weeks ago, the tears still ran and the wounds still raw and so painful. For years the Hausa-Fulani people had lived amicably with the inhabitants of the land; the Berom. For years they had gra
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