What happened in between the time that Michele Chikwanine heard the gunshot and immediately lay down to when he found his way home, has either escaped my memory or had never been mentioned.
He remembered the store well. It was the store that his father would take him for ice-cream or bread and treats. He rushed into the store, the first thing he saw was the storekeeper, putting the ice-cream and bread on the shelves. The storekeeper turned to see the little boy staring at him.
"Where have you been for the last two weeks?" he asked. "Your mother and father have been looking for you."
This is the part of the story where we remembered we were sitting comfortably in the Magda Lounge. We shuffled again, thinking that this was the happy ending. This is the part of the story where he goes home to his father and mother happily reunited and all is well.
It wasn't.
Although home and relatively well, the shadow of those two weeks in Hell did not lose its grip easy. The two weeks had changed his outlook on life completely, and for a period of time, it seems as though he had lost grip of his original self and, in a sense, reality.
A gun enforces order. During the time that he held the feared gun, he was order. When he pointed the gun, people listened. Not used to being ordered again, his parents and teacher found him far more disobedient than before. On top of that, he had even become authoritative to his elders.
And he couldn't explain it.
He couldn't explain why he wouldn't listen to his parents, or when his teacher told him to do his homework, he had flared, telling his teacher to do it instead.
He couldn't understand. All he knew was that he was changed. Although one day, his attitudes will return to the original state, the time during which he was a child soldier, the day he had killed Kevin, killed a pregnant woman, killed people he had not wanted to and been mentally battered by rebel soldiers, is a permanent crease in his soul.
Years later, he was 10 years old. The Great War of Africa had begun, the sound of gunshots in the daytime, bomb explosions at night is a commonplace occurrence.
His father was in danger.
Being a human rights activist and having supposedly found evidence that the Great War of Africa is in fact not an ethical war, but a war catalyzed by companies outside the continent in order to mine the valuable minerals in Africa virtually for free, Michel's father was in extreme danger of being killed by the rebel soldiers.
Michel was at home, his father away in Uganda, hiding from danger, his mother and sisters at home, all watching out for danger. All was well.
A bomb rumbled the village to life.
In the time period that the bomb was set, to the time that Michel's mother screamed for him, time froze and rewound. The sounds were reminiscent of the sounds of when he was in Hell. Michel saw the pregnant woman, Kevin, the people who have died under his gun...
"Why," they asked him. "Why did you kill us?" He couldn't answer.
His mother screamed in the backdrop, calling for him. Then the rebel soldiers barged into the house. They knew that this was the family of the man they were dogging for, the man that was not here. Something must be done.
The rebel soldiers caught the terrified ten year old, pinning him to the ground, forcing him to watch in complete helplessness as the rebel soldiers raped his mother and sisters.
This could not go on.
His mother, knowing that the rebel soldiers will come back for sure, knew that they must leave the Congo.
Seeking help from United Nations, the family was placed into a United Nations Refuge Camps, awaiting the time when they will be sent to Canada.
To be continued.
No comments:
Post a Comment