As we played chess, Grandpa revealed his book, “How to Get Biafra without Bloodshed.”

As we played chess, Grandpa revealed his book, “How to Get Biafra without Bloodshed.”

As we played chess, Grandpa revealed his book, “How to Get Biafra without Bloodshed.” I burst out laughing, thinking it was a joke. “Grandpa, you’re a funny man!” I said, chuckling. But Grandpa’s expression was serious, and he looked at me with a hint of disappointment. “What’s so funny?” he asked. I replied, “Well, achieving independence without bloodshed? It sounds like a dream, Grandpa.” Grandpa smiled and said, “That’s exactly what they want you to think. But I’m telling you, it’s possible.” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical but also curious. “How?” I asked. And with that, Grandpa began to share his vision for a peaceful path to Biafra’s independence. He spoke about the power of nonviolent resistance, about uniting the Igbo people and other marginalized groups, and about building a movement that would be impossible to ignore. He spoke about the need for strategic planning, for building alliances and for using international pressure to achieve our goals.

As he spoke, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement and hope. I had never thought about the possibility of achieving independence without violence, but Grandpa’s words made me realize that it wasn’t just a pipe dream.

“But Grandpa, what about the government? Won’t they just crush us like they always do?” I asked.

Grandpa smiled again, his eyes twinkling with determination. “That’s where you’re wrong, my child. The government may have power, but we have something they don’t: the power of our convictions, the power of our unity, and the power of our determination. We will not be silenced, we will not be defeated. We will rise up, and we will be heard.”