The epitaphs on the graves even propelled the tears to cascade down the contours of my face. A time when tears become a release not a sorrow. To lose one you love, one so close to you, one you hold dearly in your heart. What a painful and sorrowful loss! Every minute I pray to be released from my private agony, from the nights that haunt my sleep and the days that tortures my conscience. Recreating the image of the house and family were laughter and love was an everyday reality is unbearable. I doubt if I will ever forget such a loss. Every day in my sleep their memories visit me.Every night they whisper to me deep in my slumber, that I should not be vengeful, for I should not judge. Biblically, it is also written that we should not judge for the almighty is the one who has the final say to judge on the Day of Judgment when all men and women will bow down before the almighty and answer for their deeds.
They say forgiveness is a journey, but indeed after this traumatizing experience forgiveness proved to remain impossible. When one curse the ancestors and the powers that be in a society. It was the Lord’s decision which no human being can appeal to neither reject. Indeed it is a process in which all we shall bow down to, one day. When fate summons men shall obey. However, what is more painful is the fact that men have assumed the role of the almighty in taking lives, in the society we live in today. I vividly remember the days when I left for University. The greatest woman in my life Mother Maria used to pack the little foodstuffs in my old black suitcase emblazoned with the trade mark. MILANO TRAVELLER.Made in Italy. ‘This packet of biltong and dried vegetables will take you through the whole semester’. I still recall even up to now these words. Having grown up in a small village in Musana communal lands, were we eked a subsistence living, life was a struggle. I knew somewhere in my country some children grew up in the leafy low density suburbs in a big mansion with sliding glass doors. Such is life. Back to my University life, life itself was tough given the calibre of students that I met. Issue of social class really affected me psychologically and socially. But, this didn’t distract me from my educational dreams.
It was in Musana Village, a village I had grown to love. A village which was a haven of humanity, that I was robbed of my only pillar of strength .I recall the days of my youth hood, when we were sternly cautioned not to cut down trees.Repatriatiation of my mind to such days is only refreshing but also painful especially after the fateful episode that took away the ones I loved dearly, with whom I loved with the every bit of my heart and soul. Days flied past as weeks rushed with great haste, the semester was nearing to an end. I opened the envelope which had been addressed in red by the Pastor,
My adrenalin signaled that something was amiss somewhere, somehow. I felt weak in my bones and my stomach was irresistibly rumbling. The whole word had collapsed, for I had been robed. The centre could no longer hold, things had fallen apart to quote the great Nigerian author Chinua Achebe. The work of the enemy had triumphed. My family members including my mom, brother and sister were all burnt to death. The enemy set ablaze our hut, torching my family to death, all done under the name of political differences. This happened during the so called moment of political madness. An era when politics seemed to have triumphed over humanity and common sense. A period were neighbours turned against each other. It was the work of the devil. The funeral procession is so sweeping. Amidst the mourners is my church pastor making the incarnations ‘Dust to Dust’ ‘Ashes to Ashes’…”You are the Alpha and the Omega”. The mourners are singing the usual song which was my mom’s favorite ‘Hatina Musha Panyika’ loosely translated meaning we don’t have a permanent house or place here on earth, we are just living temporarily. As I cry uncontrollably I watch the grave diggers filling up the graves with red soils and relatives placing flowers on top of the graves. I am still battling with the sad reality that I will never see or meet again with my family. Upon this realisation ‘the Human Being in me dies’ on this fateful day.
After the loss, I tried in vain to forget. But the harder I try, the difficult it becomes. Many at times I try to put the Bible in my mouth clenching it between my teeth .In a bid to swallow the word of God and gulp it in my soul. I have since made peace with myself, I also wish to make peace with my enermies, although they haven’t come up front and take responsibility for their evil deeds. I know it is for the Lord to judge, so I leave it to my Lord to judge. Certainly, I know that my family is resting in eternal peace, but that does not ease the profound heartfelt pain of missing them. I can only seek solace in the fact that one day even if justice evades us on earth, those who took my family will be judged by the creator.