Nigeria:  Corruption, crime and terrorism, unemployment, lack of education, pollution, gender inequality, lack of economy, and biggest issue of all....WAR.  We came so close to overcoming our obstacles. But the war threw all of our progress away.  We are no better than animals just trying to survive now; to make a living is pointless.    People lie, cheat, and steal, and sometimes even kill just to stay alive for another day. 

My family is dead. At least, I believe them to be.  I woke up in a shack with a bloodied head, all of my memories gone.  I don't even remember my name.  The man I once was had written many diaries of the life before.   My father was absent.  I was my mother's only child.  Invaders came into our home, beat her, and raped her while I hid in the basket.  I was six.  One of the men found me.  I was his "pet."  He had more mercy than the others.  My mother he could not save.  But he took me under his wing.  He taught me how to read and write, and how to count.  It was a skill we were both thankful I developed, how to read.  It gave me the passion to learn, to study.

Once upon a time, we were Igbo.  I found many articles of us from long ago.  Books were non-existent.  But computers....once you were able to find a way to operate them, article after article could be found in private, personal files. The internet was non-existent.  And computers now, are mostly trash cast aside for the metals inside.  My teacher, however taught me well.  I found what he called "flash drives," where people would store their information before the turn of the century's final upgrade.  The upgrade that eventually led to our demise, and the complete erasing of all of our past lives.  Our history.  Most of these flash drives had pictures in them.  I remember seeing many smiling families, ghosts of happier times.  The men had a habit of wearing red hats, and shirts with lions on the printed fabrics. 

We found quite an assortment of Igbo instruments as well, in our home raidings:  slit-drums, ogenes, igba's, and many more.  Eze Nwanyi potato masks were found as well, showing once upon a time, our ancestors treated women with respect, and they were highly respected.  A terrible shadow is all that remains now.  Women, when found, are used and more than likely, killed when men are done with them now. 

My teacher protected me the best he could, for as long as he could.  He taught me to carve, and make music of old. But he could not stop the "initiation" of our group.  They believed that to be a man, I must learn to rape a woman by force.  I refused.  They would have kept me for their bitch, but my teacher decided to kill me instead.  It was his hand that gave my my head injury.  He left me message, written in my own blood, in one of my final diaries. 

"My son, I tried to protect you.  I am so sorry that it had to come to this.  Your heart is too pure for the world we are living in now.  Perhaps it is better this way.  Forgive me."

I have, though I remember him not.  I don't remember any of them.  I only have these letters, these books.  I wonder where will my next meal come from, without having to steal it from someone else.  I wonder if it would have been better if I never woke up from my head injury.

Life, or karma...  It has a way of turning things when you least expect it.  A great shining light appeared to me.  Who was this?  This being of shining light?  I remembered the stories I was told, of the "All seeing Eye."  The "eye of light."   "Are you Anyanwu?"

"You can call me anything you like."

This heavenly being told me that I was favored among all.  That I had more potential than what this earth could give me, or what was left of it.  I accepted the offer. 

I was given a place where I had the illusion I had my own room.  I even could go there through a wooden carved door.  But the moment the door was opened, all illusions were gone.  Gone was my body, I was nothing but a thought.  Gone was all sense of time, and the laws of physics.  And gravity.  This where I found my ultimate power.  I myself, became an all seeing eye. 

I could see all of humanity.  All of our doings, all we had become, all we had lost.  Gone were all that we ever were.  We were animals now.  I began to visit Earth, from my little perch above.  I donned the red cap, and the lion-print shirt.  I visited women and children most of the time, for they were the purest of heart.  I taught them the ways of the Igbo that most of us forgot.  Slowly, respect for womankind started to return.  But lust had overcome most of Earth's men now.

As our village of women and children grew larger, so did the divide of people that wanted to keep things as they were.  They kept to the outskirts of our community, plotting and biding their time.  At nightfall, they attacked.  They came on horseback, setting homes on fire, with intent to rape and kill.  This brought out the beast within me. From my perch, I imagined this beast, and my image on Earth began to change.  My body contorted, bones cracking, hair covering my body from head to toe.  With a great roar, I charged.  The attackers tried shooting me, but the bullets went straight through me.  I didn't even bleed.  But they did.  They bled profusely as their bones crunched beneath my jaws.  I was an unstoppable and reckless force.

Word came around that the women of Nigeria were being guarded by a mysterious lion.  Henceforth came the lion hunters, almost driving the beasts to extinction.  I became a hunter.  A hunter of lion hunters.  I would swipe away the people that would swipe out this creature's existence.  And for every lion pride that was saved, I would bring them to the Igbo women and children.  The end result was people and lions living side by side. 

They were almost like domesticated cats.  They preferred the outdoors.  But some found favor with families or individuals and shared their huts with them.  The young sons grew into adults that would hunt with the lions, side by side.  The women would help to skin the prey, and share with the lionesses their winnings, along with giving them aid to any injuries.  There was a change in the lions behavior.  They now went side by side with the lionesses and hunted with them.  They no longer killed younger cubs that were not theirs, and fathers would not impregnate females that were their off-spring. 

Guns, and bullets, slowly disappeared, as the factories that reproduced them no longer existed.  But these lions, they remained with the Igbo people; loyal, and steadfast guardians.  With these actions, a small part of humanity was saved.