Velvet Skies
11 years old
and afraid we have lost
my father
forever.
3 days ago
he was taken
from his office
to Naguru.
Nsubuga came home
driving like a maniac.
He told mummy.
Now the house is full of people
that we keep serving tea.
Are they mourning him?
Are they praying?
Are they planning
ways to bring him back?
My heart is heavy.
Many others have been taken
and never returned
I retreat to the only place
I can be alone –
the bathroom.
As I run the water
I remember mummy saying calmly,
on the first day,
‘Your father has been taken,
but don’t worry, we will be alright.’
I believe her.
She was later allowed to visit him
And when she returned she said,
‘Your father said he loves you. He said
no matter what happens you must
walk tall, with your head held up high.
He has done nothing wrong.’
Tears roll down my face
the comforting warmth of the water.
enfolds me.
I stare at the velvety skies
through the frosted glass window…
Light blue … deeper blue … purply blue…
It is dusk.
God made this time specially
‘God,’ I speak
in our special time alone.
‘Let Daddy come home today. .’
I am praying for all of us –
Mummy, Maliza, Estella,
Fay, Chris and me.
Finished I look up.
The sky is now black
and my fingers old and wrinkled.
I put on my pyjamas.
Walking down the stairs
headlights sweep into the driveway.
I hear the pounding in my chest
as I peer through the french windows.
A white Datsun with UVS number plates
stops in front of the door.
The doors open
and out he comes…
‘DADDY!’ I scream
and start opening the door.
Behind him a dark man follows.
‘Ssh,’ say the adults, as they push me away.
I do not know their fear –
Many have been returned
only to be taken again
or killed at the door.
‘Daddy,’ I say,
squeezing past them
hugging him.
we are wrapped in velvety skies.
The man in the shadows looks on
‘You are happy to see your daddy?’
He asks
Silently
We walk into the house
And lock the doors.
Daddy is back.
Black turns to velvet
First day
Maama took me to Gayaza
On that first day
A coming of age
I could hardly wait for!
That afternoon, with
Suitcase packed
Metal tuckbox hiding
Roasted peanuts, home-baked
cookies, sugar, margarine …
I jumped in and
The car refused to start.
Daddy away in Addis
Uncle Dennis unable to help
Uncle Patrick still at work
I held back the tears
It was the first day
As the sun began to set
the car miraculously started.
Why don’t we go tomorrow?
She asked.
I really want to go today.
We packed the car again.
Torch in the glove box and
Uncle Patrick, next to Mum
Incase the car broke down.
It was almost dark when we arrived
The dorms lit up and a buzz
I was there on the first day!
And she returned home
Under the warm dark
Blanket of the night…
Weeks later
Estella told me.
‘On their way home
as they rounded the corner
from Kibuli to Kisugu
Her headlights shone,
on a pickup truck parked by the roadside
Then like spotlights on
soldiers urinating by the road side.
She dimmed them immediately.
‘Simama!’ they shouted,
pulling her out of the car
With a slap.
‘How dare you shine lights on us
As we help ourselves! ‘
They grabbed the torch
Shoved them back in the car, shouting:
‘Drive! And if we find you again
only God knows what will happen!’
She drove like a mad-woman
On that dusty road
Past the church and
As they got to the tar road
a pick-up truck appeared
‘It’s okay,’ said Uncle
‘It’s not the same car.’
She got home
Safe and sound, but only just,
On that day.
And never said a word
To spoil my first day.
In a foreign land
Mother is seated
shoulders hunched
tears slowly wetting
the table
drop, by drop.
A soft moan escapes
from her mouth
Two aunties
sit next to her
talking in hushed tones
faces taut
The teenager stands by the wall
looking on,
anger rising within
’What did they say to her?’
she wonders.
Mother looks up at her
‘I’m alright.’
‘Khukhu passed away last night.’
She quickly goes over and
Wraps her arms
Around her mother.
‘I am so sorry, Mummy.’
They sit quietly for a while.
Mother looks at the children.
They have recently moved here
away from the strife at home.
The two older ones are disabled.
The younger one only 13.
The caregiver barely 19,
In this country far from home.
Mother wrestles with herself.
She must bury her mother,
about that there is no question.
But can she leave the children alone
in this foreign land?
And will she be safe
returning,
to that land of strife?
Her husband is thousands of kilometers away,
There is nothing he can do.
Her eldest child even further.
The second eldest is at home –
she might make it for the funeral.
The aunties speak.
‘What if the soldiers get you?’
‘Why don’t you stay?’
‘It’s close to the border.
I must go.’
‘Will you be alright?’
She asks the child.
‘Yes Mummy, we will.
The mother quickly packs her bags.
She gives the child some money.
‘Put it in a safe place and use it wisely.’
‘Yes, Mummy.’
As the mother speaks to the caregiver
the child takes the money
and puts it in a small box,
with her mother’s special pens
in their special place
in her mother’s room.
‘I will be back in a few days,’
mother says. And she goes.
The next day, the child looks for the money,
In the special place.
It is gone, with the box.
She looks everywhere, but cannot find it.
She calls Aunty and
they go and buy milk.
Aunty calls her careless.
Mother returns.
‘I couldn’t find the money.’ Said the teenager.
A tear rolls down her face.
‘ Where did you put it?’
‘In your pen box, in the special place.’
Mummy smiles and opens the other cupboard.
She took out her special pen box
From a different place
and nestled in there
was the money.
Like this:
Like Loading...
namutebikabalikagwa 