Shortly after Jean arrived home to Ireland she wrote about her experience of being evacuated from Biafra. She sent what she had written to Reader's Digest but they did not publish it. In the next couple of blogs I will tell the story as she records it. As you will see the months leading up to Biafran independence (30th May 1967) had witnessed attacks on southern Nigerians (the description of southern Nigeria includes the areas of the east and west) living in the northern cities.
'It was a pleasant morning. The sun streamed in as we sat together having breakfast. In a few days my husband and I were to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. My thoughts were dwelling on this when suddenly an important announcement on the radio shattered my daydreams. "Today, May 30th, 1967 the former region of eastern Nigeria becomes the Republic of Biafra." I glanced across the able at my husband, but he was in a hurry as it would be a very busy day in the hospital of which he was Medical Superintendent, so he had no time to wait and discuss this unexpected news. As I made my way to the classroom where I was acting as Midwifery Tutor I was conscious of a sense of excitement. We were now living in a new Republic. During the morning about twenty motor-bikes roared through the compound, each carrying a driver and a passenger. Each passenger was waving a branch of a tree and shouting "Long Live Biafra!" A group of nurses also passed, waving branches and chanting excitedly "Long Live Biafra!"
Later in the day I listened in on the radio to the swearing in ceremony of the new Governor of Biafra, and to his most moving speech. I was aware that this was an important moment in history - the birth of a new nation. As I listened to the national anthem "Be still my soul: the Lord is on thy side; Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain," sung to the tune 'Finlandia' my heart ached for the people of this new nation. I remembered the dreadful suffering through which they had just passed - the 30,000 or more who had been massacred, the many who had been shamefully mutilated: eyes gouged out, noses or limbs cut off - and some of whom had been treated in our hospital. The one and a half to two million refugees who had had to return to their homeland, leaving their property, homes and livelihood behind. There was hardly a family we knew that had not been affected in one way or another. Were these people to suffer even more? I was filled with a feeling of apprehension. What did the future hold in store? There was no time to brood however; there was work to be done. The nurses were waiting in the classroom; I must go and give them a lecture.' 
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