THIS DAY WILL FOREVER HAUNT ME

By Kyamanywa Julius
It is dawn and as a routine I jerk out of bed. The weather is quite chilly and seemingly unusual. Up on the trees birds are singing as if emphasizing on the saying, the early bird catches the worm. In the East the sun is rising over the hills making them appear like a giant’s hand warming itself on the fiery rays. My grass thatched and mud walled hut stood far away from my parents’ compound as those old cultural beliefs demanded.
Minutes later, I hear footsteps coming towards my hut. This is unprecedented hence I conclude immediately-something has gone wrong. I feel numb with fear and can’t move an inch. To reinforce my worries are sounds of people wailing but the faintness suggests it’s from far.
Suddenly, my paternal uncle enters my hut, panting, hands akimbo, his mouth wide open and gasps for air. "Is anything wrong?" scared as I was I asked without further ado. "Calm down my son! What God has planned no man can undo!" He suggests as he tries to fight back the tears in his eyes. "All of us will one day die." He insinuates further. By this time I was getting tense and angry. "Why don't you tell me the truth?" I retorted.
"Fine, your parents are dead!" He candidly said. "Dead! Who! When and how?" I shockingly inquired. "Oh God! You are unfair! Why me and now? Who will take care of my siblings?" I asked rhetorically.
I felt confused and for a moment I thought I was either dreaming or in a different world. The tingling sensation was all over my body with my heart throbbing. I wished the earth could open up and burry me alive.
This seemed to be the turning point in my life. I was the first-born and henceforth my four siblings were to start depending on me. Can you imagine such a cumbersome task being left for a twenty-year-old boy?
With the help of my uncle I gathered up strength and together, walked to my parents compound. It was almost eight o’clock and the tragic news had now spread all over like a bush fire. Traditionally, whenever someone dies in the village everybody is meant to show togetherness by foregoing their daily tasks and joining the bereaved family in mourning. The compound, with only three grass-thatched huts was packed and more people still streamed in. Women and children sobbed and wailed in disbelief.
We squeezed our way through the crowd into my parents’ house. Their nude bodies still lay down on the floor in a pool of blood. Since this was a crime no one was supposed to tamper with anything, lest evidence would be distorted. Their throats had been slit using the blood-covered sword that lay on the table next to them. Furniture and Bedding were scattered all over indicating there was a tussle before they were murdered. I was scared, nervous and dumbfounded as all shaked their heads and tearfully stared at me. I took a chair and sat pensively as the nighbour who noticed of the sad incident first tried to console me.
The village elder had by this time gone to report to the police station. In a short while six policemen drove in. The crowd was ordered out of the house as they began gathering evidence inside it. After, they recorded statements from my paternal uncle, three neighbours and me. The bodies were then put in their vehicle as they requested three of us to accompany them to the mortuary where an autopsy was to be done a day after.
It is now three years down the line but the inimical killers of my parents are yet to be apprehended for the mystery to be resolved. However, we later buried them .I have longed for when I will forget this day in vain, but I am optimistic one day I will.