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Sir Balewa with Queen's representative |
“You’re under arrest sir,” Ifeajuna said, pointing his gun at the Prime Minister, who looked startled. “Get up sir, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Alright,” the Prime Minister replied gently, “allow me to dress up.”
He put on a white flowing robe with white trousers, a pair of slippers and his prayer beads. Without fear and a disciplined face, he trudged out of the room and the residence gently as Ifeajuna and his soldiers accompanied him with pointed guns.
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On independence day in 1960 |
“Are you alright sir?” Ifeajuna asked the Prime Minister as he opened the side door. “Or would you like some fresh air?”
To Tafawa-Balewa, it was a rhetorical question and the decision to answer or not rested on him. Without answering the Major, he gently alighted from the car and ambled towards the darkness as Ifeajuna watched anxiously, oblivious to what the Prime Minister was up to.
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All fell to the bullets of the revolution, same day |
The “revolution” had failed and the Prime Minister had become a liability to their movement anyway. The Major shot sporadically at the fleeing figure sending the tranquility of the darkness to a bustle of gunfire like the crackle of burning dried leaves.
Tafawa-Balewa fell as Ifeajuna stared in horror at the darkness whether he got his target. The Golden Voice of Africa had been silenced.
Quickly, he moved towards the still body of the Prime Minister and after confirming he was dead, dragged him to a tree trunk and rested the body in a seating position with his clothing still intact.
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The golden voice of Africa |
Source: A Carnage Before Dawn: A Historical Novel on Nigeria's First Coup D'etat
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