SON OF HEKIMA

 

After the loss of Buntu’s father Hekima, the rebel leaders get closer to his village only to leave a wake of terror on Buntu’s path.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

Buntu’s small village was under attack by the M23 rebel groups that seized power as the government went into civil unrest. Bodies were piled high; businesses were closed and the people we’re taken hostage. The sound of gun shots lingered in the air day and night making it impossible for Buntu and his family to sleep. 

The loss of his father left sharp pangs of pain in Buntu’s heart. The air smelt foul of dead bodies and gasoline. The sun rarely shown its glory and smoke billowed the once blue clear skies.

Farming had to be suspended for the rebel groups would come in the night and loot their house. His mother Beatrice would arm herself with a shoka to protect her family. 

But all they would do is let out war cries and shoot in the air as they laid a wake of terror in the neighborhood. Buntu was scared stiff from all this and missed his father Hekima dearly.

On this day the rain poured from the heavens, a blessing thought Buntu, little did he not know he would curse the day he was born on this particular day. The rebels had taken advantage of the rain to come into Buntu’s home. They stole their animals and destroyed their crops causing havoc as his baby sister would wail through the night.

One of the rebel leaders found their way into their home and found Buntu and his family hiding within the closet.

“Are you affiliates of the rogue government?” asked the rebel leader. He wore a torn army uniform, dirt covered all over his clothes with blood stains that he wore like an armor of honor.

He spat on the ground.

“No! Mheshimiwa we are just farmers making an honest living” said Beatrice her voice cracking like the same thunder that was ravaging their homes.

“We found, contraptions of some kind in one of the rooms general!” said one of the cadets seemingly his inferior as he handed a radio like gizmo to the tall well-built African man.

“Then what is this?!” said the rebel leader as he dropped the radio to the ground with a thud.

“You are working for the government! No?!” he shouted.

He cocked his gun.

“Our mission is to destroy all the government mules with immediate effect” he commanded with his booming voice.

“Now you will tell me, what this gadget is?! Now or I kill your mother and sister…” said the leader known as Simba, Buntu learnt as one of his cadets referred to him as that.

“It is a radio yes but it is also a communication device like a telephone” said Buntu.

The rain poured as a soft silence came over the trio. Leaving the rain to grace its drops on the iron built home. Deafening. Thought Buntu.

“So, you are communicating with the government!” said Simba, his wrath showing on his face with great rage and fury.

He grabbed his mother by the collar of her night dress and dragged her to the center.

“Mama! Noooo!” cried Buntu.

The rebel leader aimed his gun at her and shot his mother with no remorse. Dropping her sister to the ground. Buntu quickly rushed to protect his baby sister as his mother laid lifeless on the ground a pool of blood formed around the body.

Her beautiful white gown was now blood stricken and she was no more.

“Buntu take care of your sister…” she whispered as she drifted into the hands of death.

Buntu cried completely broken. The rebel leader smiled in coquetry showing his yellow stained teeth in moonlight. He lit a cigar and smoked it slowly savoring its flavor. 

“Now my son you will join me in this crusade…” he said as he puffed on the cigar that looked like a trumpet in the darkness of the night.

Tears rolled down Buntu’s cheeks like a fountain.

He looked up and said “How dare you kill my family; revenge will be mine. I will be the last thing you see!” cried Buntu as one of the cadets knocked him out with his rifle rendering him unconscious.

The next day

Buntu woke up to the smell of smoke and blood. My mother he thought as he couldn’t believe what had happened and would only wish that it was a nightmare. There beside him lay his mothers’ lifeless body. 

On the opposite direction was Simba staring at him with discreet eyes sharp as steel.

He motioned to one of his children soldiers that were now more visible through the daylight. They handed him a pair of uniform. 

He looked left and right for his baby sister but there she lay lifeless too devoid of hope. The cold weather had sent a chill up her spine and the kiss of death took her too.

Buntu locked eyes with Simba rage building up inside him like an infernal fire.

Not today…not now thought Buntu

I will have my revenge.