I was seventeen, among the torch bearers at night time also fighting for an uncalled and undeserved war which later saw to the destruction of mankind including myself internally. I still remember every detail about the events and the aftermath of everything. It all began with a disagreement over the closure of my town's border.
My town Mbita was a very big one located in a relatively hilly part of Longaso. It was teemed with giant and evergreen trees in part, lushed fruits for every season made living colourful. It was a blessing to be an inhabitant here. It was also in a developing state as education was fully embraced, technology was easily accepted, we had big factories, good hospitals, good roads to name a few. Everyone in Mbita was just seen to be living a happy and fulfilled life. Indeed my town was superfluous with resources. The only thing I couldn't decipher was its people lingering to the past in the guise of being conservative. I could understand that even if we came out of an era to embrace development and growth, some rich history, traditions and practices should be passed along for one to have an identity and pass it on for posterity's sake. This conservative style led to remarkable things that are written in history's book. A particular event would shape me for the rest of my days on earth.
Mbita was bordered by two other big towns Buti and Zono. Zono being the closest had good relations, were interdependent, had schools which were well attended by children ,market places, worship centers and everyone got to see each other as having no differences.
I was a tall, dark and quiet young boy living with my parents and three younger brothers with an inseparable kind of bond. My parents were very receptive to good changes and were very calm in taking decisions. They enrolled all four of us into schools and gave us the needed support. I was already in my final class at high school preparing to seek admission into the University in the city of Limbasa so I needed to read and work hard. My nature could be regarded as feeble and soft rather than the usual ideology people have assumed for boys to be stoic, rigid and sometimes rough. I was often regarded as a sissy by my peers whenever we joked or played around as I would stylishly shy away from some kind of plays that involved tugging and being tardy. Indeed I was a soft boy, a mummy's boy. My younger ones were quite different from me. They each possessed some kind of undaunted prowess and would sometimes protect me even though I was the eldest. This made our bond stronger as I sought and found some kind of solace in them but time had it that I would later be drifted away by circumstances one couldn't control.
The bright and smiling sun ushered a calm and peaceful Tuesday afternoon. The birds chirped loudly as usual, little children frolicking and chattering in open spaces, everyone going about their activities. I sat down in front of my house staring at thin space creating imaginations in my blank head. My mother had just returned from a bidding event and my father was reading a book with his glasses and mumblings some words to himself when we heard a very loud bang from no particular direction. Everyone muted for a few seconds before we started hearing voices screaming run!!!they are coming. I ran into the house and saw mother trembling and shouting in fear saying 'it has happened, we are finished'. My father ran frantically to my siblings' room to get them out and we all ran out trying to seek refuge and safety with a confused crowd going in different directions. As we scampered for safety, I couldn't help but see some little children looking confused and scared to death screaming for their mothers, mothers in turn...