Friday the 13th. It was a day before Valentine’s Day. And the year was 1976. Lovers across the world were perfecting plans on how to surprise their mates. Some were considering yellow roses while others settled for a day lapping up the tropical sun on Bar Beach. The morning started out like any other. Lagosians were getting ready for the daily hustle and in no time, traffic started building up. The Lagos deity was awake and the nation’s capital responded to the crows of the cock.

Ever dutiful, the 37-year-old Nigerian Head of State summoned his driver, orderly and aide-de-camp. It was time for work. Without the slightest hint of anything sinister waiting for them despite many labelling a 13th February an evil omen, Nigeria’s 4th Head of State and the unwavering commander of the Federal Military Government (FMG) hopped into his official car, a black Mercedes Benz limousine. The driver shanasenjin-ed (started the engine), proceeded along their normal George Street route. The unassuming group headed for the center of power of the black world’s most populous nation -Dodan Barracks.

Meanwhile, all over Lagos, humanity poured out onto the streets and the traffic slowly gained momentum. In little time, the Head of State was caught in the Friday traffic. A simple leader with populist ideas, he had no speeding convoys, refused heavily-armed security details and preferred to stay in the traffic with his ‘Fellow Nigerians’ until it eased. They were all calm while some other drivers kept glancing at their much-loved and admired leader. Some shouted out at him with joy and excitement while some others waved like their limbs would fly off the torso.

Like a Hugo Chavez, Murtala felt a deep connection with the people and he must have been surveying the area full of his loyal and smiling compatriots, many peering at him through their cars when all of a sudden…

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Like a dark scene from a horror movie, the Mercedes conveying the leader was suddenly ambushed by a handful of well-armed soldiers as it snailed its way through the traffic. The terror that ensued upon firing the gunshots was instantaneous. Nigerians adulating their great leader just minutes ago fled the scene in a matter of seconds for dear lives, drivers abandoned their vehicles in the traffic and put Usain Bolt to shame while mothers grabbed their toddlers and scampered off to safety like terrified gazelles. Claps of thunder coming from guns sputtering iron-hot bullets filled the air. There was chaos. The putrid smell of disorder was choking. As in, it was a real igborotidaru moment.

In a few minutes of blood-chilling anarchy, the young Nigerian leader was hit and it did not take long before his smart uniform was soaked in warm, fresh blood. Murtala had been assassinated. Muritala was dead. Gone. The nation would not recover -not even 37 years after the carnage. Welcome to the world of one of Nigeria’s most remembered leaders. Nigerians very rarely shed tears for their leaders but if there is one who evokes so much emotion, pity, ululations and tears, Murtala is the man. For many Nigerians, he gave the ultimate sacrifice for a nation he fought for, and is considered a national hero.

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Yes. Tenacious. Incorrigibly unyielding. Very very very stubborn. Charismatic. Highly mercurial. Extremely determined. Disobedient. Kind. Very quick to anger. Very religious. Brilliant. Ambitious. Incredibly courageous. Bold. Impulsive. Selfless. Unpredictable. Rebellious. Patriotic. Imperfect. Populist. Popular. Fierce. Fiery. Those are the exact words that come to my mind whenever I remember General MURTALA RAMAT MOHAMMED, Nigeria’s hot-tempered legendary leader of uncommon tenacity brutally cut short in the prime of his life by a tool he once controlled and mastered -the bindiga (Hausa for gun).

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may you rot in hell kiler of women and children.The General supervised the worst massacre in Nigeria's history at Asaba.He was almost responsible for Nigeria's worrst defeat during the civil war at Abagana.He is terribly incompetent and ruthlessly brutal