09/01/2023
Chapter ONE: In the streets
EPISODE 1: âTwo dreamers in the shantiesâ
The newspaper flew off the 18-year-old girlâs hands by a light wind. She was reading for her blind uncle. He was seated on the bench outside a shopping mall. âOh, let me go pick it up!â she said.
âNo, itâs alright, I have heard enough for the day, and tomorrow theyâll be other headlines but the same subjects and problems. Nothing changes under the sunâ, her uncle said. âContinue with your karate practice, Sarah. Iâll go listen to the 12-hour news when we get back home.â
âFine, uncleâ, she stood with her feet shoulder apart and toes open at 45 degrees; looking very badass in her shadow. She just rejoined her team in outdoor vicious judo training. This was a Kitwe town club that trains Karate as an art of self-defense and hobby.
In the central part of the country, in the Headquarter, was another low-class district. It was the Chunga district whose near distance with the city prevented it from turning into Havana. Everyone who visited it said the same. In terms of garbage, it was the closest thing to Havana. It had better shanties than Havana though. Whilst in Havana itâs hard to tell who and who is not a street kid, here itâs noticeable as people could afford a decent life.
The garbage area was called Malabo. The garbage from the city and the surrounding areas in the central part was dumped here. Then later was taken to the regional collection area in Havana.
On a sunny summer 0f 2014, on one of the shabby houses in the hilly area, stood two little souls. One was a boy and another was a girl. The boyâs name was Paoneke. He was thin, dark and dirty. The girlâs name was Ngale. She was overweight, dark and beautiful. Though born in the shanty compounds of Chunga, these two were gifted with imaginations and dreams. They were very ambitious by character, and talented in special ways.
Like two tales of promised light, they lived to their ambitions and nothing among the temptations of the streets could take that away from them. Their distinct dreams set them apart from the rest of their age groups. They usually played together. They challenged themselves with school work and debated on essential topics in the current affairs of the country.
That day they were playing a street game called âapa pa lindaniâ or if you want to call it âname gameâ. They drew a good circle and divided it into four triangular segments. The game led them to a hot debate on who can call out a lot of names of provinces and countries around the world. This shocked the girlâs father who was seated at the veranda. The boy called out all the provinces of the country, almost all districts, and many foreign countries and their capital cities.
âPaoneke!â he called out the boy, right in his greased rough hand was a burning cigar. âWho taught you those city names? Did you start school?â he asked him in the vernacular language.
âNo, I didnâtâ, he replied as he stopped the play.
âThen how did you come to know about them?"
âI read them from a page of an atlas I picked from the garbageâ
âYou know what an atlas is?â he asked with shock, âso youâre better than some who actually go to schoolâ, he said referring to his daughter, Ngale.
âNgale can read and write as wellâ, Paoneke said trying to defend her. âSheâs so good at writing poems and songs. She should sing for you one of her songs.â
âShe has to be a doctor, thereâs no room for artists in this countryâ, he said sounding just like a father who is tired of being a father.
âBut I can sing wellâ, Ngale objected.
He ignored her. âPaoneke you should come to school on Monday, Iâll allow you in my class. When you come just ask for class five, theyâll direct you.â
âThank you, uncleâ, he said with blazing eyes so excited for what would be his first class since he lost his way home and found himself on the street. Then he was in grade three.
âYouâll finally now attend class, wow!â Ngale said looking at Paoneke. âAt least now youâll stop sneaking into my class.â
âI donât sneak in, education is free.â
As the man went inside the bricked house, they went back to finish the game drawn on the loamy playground. Theyâre accompanied by the bright colors of scented flowers glowing in the sunlight beside the stinking stream that flowed through. Chirping birds happily hang around as the guava tree beside them waved its arms in excitement.
âI read about Wezi from an article I picked, she was also from the streets and her father never wanted her to be a singer. But she kept the dream from dying away despite oppositions and today sheâs a famous superstar. You donât expect someone to give you stability. Youâve to be stable for yourself and be a solid house that doesnât blow over in a storm. If you have a dream-â
âPaoneke! Paoneke!â a very young boy called out for him. He came running to him for defense after fighting with a friend.
âDid you fight again?â he asked. The boy nodded. âDonât fight again. If they start to fight you, run! Thatâs all you do, run! Youâve heard, Bupe, run! Donât fight back.â
âDoes Bupe also sleep under the market tables and boxes like you?â Ngale asked.
âHeâs my brother, what do you expect? Weâre all street kids.â
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean anything badâ, she said. âAnyway, youâre better off than your friends I saw in Havana where I visited my mom. Trust me, youâll find a land fairer than day soon. Like you always say; âlight comes after darkness, just like tomorrow comes after todayâ. Where did you get this saying from anyway?â
âThat is what is written at Zed shop. Youâve never seen it?â
âNo, I donât read whatever I come across like youâ, she said. She turned around and began singing âNyimbo Zakoâ by Wezi.
She had a soothing voice familiar with that of Adele. Her voice had a deep, dark, rich and raspy tone. When singing, she sounded conversational most times, as she allows some air to creep into the sound, increasing the intimacy of her already expressive music style. She lavishes her phrases with small ornamentations: grace notes, trills, growls, and imperceptible flips from her chest to head voice.
--(Two years later)â
Two men stood at the door of an unfinished building. They were in black coats and black huts. They also had black gloves and right in oneâs hand was a black suitcase. The building was in outskirt totally surrounded by a maize field. He intensely gazed right at them. The reflections of what they have for him took his mind captive. He was sweating and shivering. He pulled a trigger from his back and put it back. He then came out of his hiding. He was also in the same outfit covered with mist.
The men turned and goggled at him. He stood two meters away. âWe wonât talk from here. Letâs go inside the building. Gentlemen, shall we?â they said their voice sounding as baleful as death. He walked terrified after them and maintained his space even inside the building. The ghost quietness simulated the awkwardness and horror of their meeting.
âWhat does the Master of streets have for his three agents this early morning?â he asked.
âWhat does he have for his three agents, really? No, itâs for you, aloneâ, they said.
âWhat is it that he has for me?â he asked again.
âHe called us last night, and said he has a work for us. That one of his agents, specifically Agent Chunga, messed up a great deal. You know what you did, donât you?â
âI told him I would handle it myself.â
âWell, then I guess he just doesnât trust you anymore.â
âItâs my identity that has been leaked and not his; I donât see why heâs so concerned.â
âYou do know why. The police have your identity and that means theyâll be looking for you. You know they wonât sleep until they find you. And that means all of us connected to you will be in danger; the plans, the deals, the camps, and the identity of every one of us in the chain and including that of your daughter, but that is only if they catch you alive. So weâll do you a favor by eliminating you from the face of the earth.â
âIs that the reason why the Master has sent you here, to kill me?â Agent Chunga asked.
âWhy else would he send Agent Zani Muone and Agent Kasupe for? He calls us for murders onlyâ, they replied. They pulled their triggers from their backs and he had two pistols pointing at his head. âYour daughter will be fine. Sheâll join one of our camps.â
This right here, what they just said took the hell out of him. Him imaging his daughter in those dirty camps, around those evil men, very unbearable. He staggered to his feet, swaying a little. He was running the risk at dearthâs door.
The men watched his play and stared at each other. Upon nodding to each other, a boogie bomb was dropped. Instantly, it exploded with a banging sound. The space between them heated up like a hot spring. The room was filled with white smoke of dust. Literally, it was blinding. All three of them fell on the ground showered with white powder. The two men had let go of their guns. One of them began to try and stand up, coughing the earthly taste of cement out of his mouth. He then only realized that his right leg has been chopped off. He looked sideways and saw the bloody intestines lying on top of the chopped head, an offcut hand bleeding by the door. His friend was disfigured, itâs like the boogie bomb dropped for him. âAgent Kasupe!â he cried for him. He immediately looked the other side and saw the man who just dropped the bomb trying to be on his feet. But he just laid hopelessly staring at the pistol away from him.
Agent Chunga stood up on his feet. He was coughing and breathing heavily. He had injured his ankle. He pulled his gun from the back and pointed it right at the man who was still breathing. âYouâve your phone with you; tell the Street Master that after all this I will come for him.â
Agent Zani Muone laughed daringly, then whispered painfully, âGo find him now because you wonât be alive to see the moon. If you do, then maybe itâs because the police caught you first. But if itâs going to be the master, then forget about living and wish good luck to your daughter. Heâll try to call us and we wonât be picking his calls and then heâll know that something has happened; that Agent Chunga has just killed two of his agents. Heâll throw his full force on you, trust me. You canât hide, thereâs a reason why heâs called the Master of streets. He has all the connections with him.â
âIâll leave the countryâ, Agent Chunga replied.
âThe police have already alarmed the border security; theyâre looking for you everywhereâ, he said vomiting blood out of his mouth. He was going to die as well.
Agent Chunga packed his gun and walked towards the suitcase. He picked it up and saw an inscription on its metallic body âTO THE JU**IE KINGâ. It was locked with a password. There was a puzzle right there to be solved. He knew he wouldnât still figure out the password, so he didnât try to open it. But he knew it was coming from the Street master and headed for the Ju**ie King. He took and walked out of the building.
He sat in his house thinking about what to do next. He stood up and went inside his bedroom. All the rooms in the house had a concrete floor, apart from his bedroom. He pulled his bed on the other side. He picked up a shovel and gently took the top layer of sand and sitting underneath was a metallic trunk. He opened it while the rest of its body was still in the ground. There were some documents, some bullets, a boogie bomb, a gun and a packet of cannabis w**d. He pressed the suitcase on top of the documents inside. He took the photo album from the small table, removed one photograph from it and dropped the album in the trunk. He collected all his documents from the drawers and his identity documents (NRC, driving licenses, etc.) and dropped them in the trunk. He then removed the trunk from the ground. He began digging the ground.
After 2 hours, around 9 pm, the hole was two meters deep. His daughter came to check up on him. âWhy are you digging in the house, papa?â she asked.
âFor a rat that is trying to escape from evil peopleâ, he replied. âIs Paoneke still outside?â he asked her.
âYah, weâre still playingâ, she responded.
âGo tell him to leave. Weâll be going somewhere for a while. Life has changed, daughter.â
âWhat about my birthday gift?â she reminded him joyfully. She was so excited for the surprise her father was holding.
âRemind me later. Now go take a bath and put your entire luggage in that small bag.â
He took the trunk and buried it in the hole. He rolled the shovel throughout the top part of the entire bedroom to erase the fresh mark he had just created, so that that no one would notice that something had been hidden.
He immediately made a call to a friend.
Paoneke stood in his rugged outfit. Bupe was just by his side. âMy father said you should leaveâ, she told him softly. She was carrying a bucket to go get bathing water at the tap.
âWhy should I leave?â he asked her.
âWeâll be going somewhere, probably to a father-daughter day out of some kind. I mean itâs my 13th birthdayâ, she said joyfully.
âAnd since when did he start celebrating your birthdays? A ghetto father and daughter going for a father-daughter day out, what has changed, tell me? At this point even Mr. Bowa can win the electionsâ, he joked.
âWell, Paoneke, everything has a start and an end. In everyoneâs story their shifts, turns, ups and downs, bad and good days, and these days right here are my good ones.â
âWell, that is strangeâ, he said.
âYah, father has been acting strange since yesterday. Last night he was just panicking and receiving calls. Today, he left the house early morning when it was just still dark. And then boom, I find him digging the house with a trunk I believe he plans to burry. So âus going out for a day outâ isnât strange at all to me. Iâll see you when I get back. Play safe.â
Ngaleâs father sat in the kitchen. He was engulfed in dark but his face was illuminated by a ray of light from an open brick wall. He paused deadly staring at the old photograph. It was taken 8 years ago, just two years before his wife divorced him. He stared more at the smiling little Ngale in her motherâs arms. He instantly began shedding tears. He has just sent his friend at the railway station to buy one ticket headed to Havana.
Ngale entered the house from bathing outside. She was angry as she just slipped off on the floor and her sleepers loosed. But not even that could beat the joy on her face when she saw her father. She found him on the kitchen sofa with tears in his eyes. She wanted to ask him about her birthday gift and exactly why she was told to bath this early, but held herself back. She went inside her bedroom.
Later on, she came out. She was wearing a beautiful blue dress. Her father was still crying. She walked to him and held his hand. He, then, carried her and hugged her affectionately in deep mourning. Suddenly, his friend came in running. âThere are here youâve to go now!â he said in a hurry. âYou said I should buy one ticket, what about her?â
âThat ticket is for herâ, he replied.
âWhat about you?â
âI donât have to run away. If I do, I wonât stop running. That I knowâ, he said wiping his tears. âBoth the Street master and the Police are looking for me. Thereâs nowhere I can hide. But I would rather give myself to the police, than to be captured by those junkies.â He started crying and said, âTheyâre evil, man, you just donât knowâ, he was losing his voice.
âWell, then the Police are answering your desire because they are hereâ, he told him.
âNgale, listen to me carefully. Iâve managed to contact your mom. Youâll get on the train at 2pm and it will take you to Havana. Youâll meet your mom from there. Sheâll be waiting for you.â
Ngale began crying. She uttered no word even though she could sense that she was looking at her father for the last time. She held him tightly and refused to let go. He forced her out of his arms as she cried remarkably. âGo, Lelo, take her to the station, and make sure sheâs in the train before it starts off. And hand her to the care of any trustable passenger youâll find to just be with her on the way. Go, now, if the police find the both of you here, they will take her and theyâll throw her in an orphanage. Sheâll also be a street kid. So go now, Lelo. Take her!â
The police siren could be heard approaching their compound. Lelo and Ngale left unseen by them. They used a narrow path behind the house along a stinking stream. Later found their way to the railway station. Lelo was troubled by her persistent pursuit of a friend. She kept insisting that she has to first say goodbye to Paoneke, her friend. But Lelo thought it was dangerous and useless, and hence didnât give her chance to.
People kept moving into and out of the train. They were Policemen standing at the door of the train and just around the surrounding places. But the Police knew not her identity. The train was going to start off in ten minutes. Lelo was still looking for a trustable passenger. Ngale, fortunately, saw Bupe with his friends beside the train at the canteen side. She quickly called his name and quickly he came running to her. âWhereâs Paoneke?â she asked him.
âI left him at Zed shop playing chessâ, Bupe replied.
âGo and call him right now. Tell him that Iâm leaving for Havana. Go now, hurry!â
Paoneke started to rethink his moves. He knew he had taken some wrong ones apparently and hence held back from winning in a breeze. The new opponent, having a winning hand, took him beyond a joke. He wasnât going to let his winning streak end. He had already gambled much, but still not satisfied by what heâs made. He believed in one thing; just because youâve made a fortune doesnât mean you should let go of your legacy. At first, he wins for the money, but when heâs made enough for the day he starts to win for the legacyâs sake. As a result, itâs a bizarre to beat him. He always goes for all the marbles.
âThe Police are all over todayâ, a man said following the sirens that had kept wailing.
âIf the sound is an up-and-down, rising and falling tone like it is wailing now, it signifies an attack emergencyâ, Paoneke added on, âSomeone has surely messed up.â
âSomeone is about to have his first loss after 22 gamesâ, said a grown man, probably in his twenties. A huge shadow was casted on the chess board from the standing men deadly gazing at the game. They extinguished their ci******es, and then went for another, a ceremony that would go on throughout the gambling. Paoneke and his opponent were stuck in the game, carefully calculating every move. The atmosphere for the two was hot and sweaty.
âA 15-year-old canât beat me!â his opponent claimed after making a killer move with a daring eye at him. Paoneke dragged a bishop piece and then reversed and hesitated to make a move.
âWhatâs your name?â Paoneke asked him.
âHm, youâve finally thought of asking for my name. Iâm Masiye.â
âMasiye, how old are you?â he asked him again.
âThis is a chess game, boy. Itâs not an interrogation. Just make your move.â
âEvery game is an interrogation. You need to read the mind of your opponent, study his every move, predict his next move and judge him finally. If he had the right move, you give him yours as well. But if his move was wrong, you arrest him. But some people canât bear loss, especially young ones, and thatâs why Iâll ask you again; how old are you?â
Masiye appeared horrified by his words and recalculated his last move in lack of confidence. âI think the move I have made is too much for you to bear, right? Let it sink in, boy, youâre losing.â Everyone laughed at Paoneke.
âWell, no mercy, then!â Paoneke took his two pieces, the queen and the knight, for a ride, turned the game around and the match ended with only three moves.
âCheckmate! Checkmate! Heâs won again! Masiye has lost!â
Paoneke collected his coins and dropped them in a 750ml drink bottle that was almost full to the brim. âThis time Iâm willing to bet a k20â, he said. He was restaging the chess board when the rest of the men were arguing on who was to face him next. He was beaming radiantly. He began whistling, thinking of what he would use the money for, obviously like he always does having Bupe and Ngale as a priority. Just as he was about to make his first move, Bupe was heard shouting his name. He was running towards the shop, where they gathered, appearing to have an urgent message for him.
âWhatâs wrong this time? You were fighting again?â he asked him.
âNo, I wasnât at all. Itâs Ngale!â
âNgale? Has anything bad happened to her?â
âNo, sheâs leaving by train, and she wanted to talk to you?â
No sooner had Bupe finished speaking than Paoneke took off impetuously. He left his bottle of coins behind at the mercy of people to whom theft is a way of life. Heâs never this reckless. He ran his feet off as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran through the bustling market, down to the rusted railway lines towards the open railway station just nearby.
There was noise and commotions everywhere. There were a lot of people. There was a great rush at the doors of compartments. The train began clunking and screeching, the frozen engines kicked into motion. Paoneke heard the sound of the locomotives and headed up. The train took off sluggardly just as he came through. Coincidentally, he saw Ngale on one of the windows. He began chasing the train instantly. He did so whilst yelling her name passionately.
âNgale! Ngale! Ngale!â, he chased until his heart could no longer assist him. He slowed, he paused, he stood, and he knelt, sat and slept weeping silently in sand. He stared as the train disappeared from his sight down the hill as the sun shied off into sunset.
17pm, Lusaka Central Police Station, Interrogation room. Detective M. Banda walked inside and shut the door. He walked interrogatively as he sat on the table, âYou were hard to find Mister. Iâm impressedâ, he said to the man who was also seated on the table. He inspected his body language as the man gazed down frowningly. âItâs been a hell of a day. You look very tired. Well, I just have two questions for youâ, he said. The man was silent. He took a photograph from his pocket and slid it over the table to the man. âLetâs start with your daughter, whereâs she?â
âI might have no ideaâ, the man broke his silence.
âWe found you staring at this photograph, and youâre telling me you donât know where they are.â
âMaybe that should tell you something; the fact that you found me aloneâ, the man replied.
Detective M. Banda laughs and moves his chair closer to the table. âSheâs not the real problem. Who and whereâs the Ju**ie king?â
The man instantly looked at him and laughed. âOh man, you absolutely know nothing about my boss, donât you?â he said, âI donât work for the Ju**ie king.â
âWell, then who do you work for?â the detective asked.
âI worked for the Street Master, and I know nothing about him?â
âYou worked for someone and you know nothing about them?â
âThey have boundaries. They reveal something to you, but later youâll realize thatâs not who they are actually. All I know is that they are powerful.â
âOkay, but you know who the Ju**ie king is?â
âI have some information about him. But only two.â
âNice, one?â
âHeâs the nephew to the Master of streets, apparently.â
âTwo?â
âHeâs just right here in Lusaka City at the Intercity Bus Stationâ
Detective M. Banda laughs again knocking his car keys on the table. âWeâve searched that area a thousand times. What a joke!â
âYou have eyes but you donât seeâ, the man said leaning against the chair. âHalf of the street kids you see in town, he is the one! Every evil you hear of, he caused it. Every bank robbed; he planned it. Every riot that happens in the city, itâs him playing his favorite song: rebellion! He seats on the slogan âI fight for my freedom! I die for my kingdom!ââ he said leaning towards the table and knocking his bat. âHeâs invisible, and like his uncle he gets whatever he wants. Thatâs all I can say and that is all I know about him.â
âHow come you seem to know a lot about him?â
âBecause unlike his uncle, he is in the streets with all of us, you and me.â
âHow did you come to know that?â
âWhen you see the smoke, know thereâs a fire burning somewhere. When you see increase in riots, strikes, robberies, little boys and girls missing, drug supply, notorious street kids, and theft, then know he is around somewhere because he is the burning fire. But I have never seen him.â
âHelp us find him, you might get a fair hearingâ, said the detective trying to get to a deal. âThey took your daughter, right?â
âMaybe, I have no idea where she is. And for the deal, if you let me out, Iâll work with you.â
âYou donât seem to be even worried about your daughter missing, how can I trust you?â
âI think because you have no other choice, thinking of it. I canât help you find the Street master, but I can find the Ju**ie king. I can trail his paths, and Iâll lead you to him, and my work will be done.â
âWhy are you so willing to help us? You can just go and join them again.â
âIâll give you a location of an unfinished building, and inside youâll find two dead bodies. They came for me, to kill me, because unfortunately my business with them is done. Those two like me are Street masterâs agents. Go, verify my words and come back again. I want to end their system just like you.â
âWeâll talk again tomorrow, see you Mister!â
âYou found me seated in my house waiting for your damn fu***ng men to arrest me; that should tell you something about where I stand!â he shouted as the detective was leaving the room. Two armed officers came in and took him to his cell.
The pale crescent moon shone brightly in the night sky. The occasional barking of faraway dogs broke the silence of the night. The market was silent as the grave. The moon shadows cut under the wooden shelters. He walked like a drunk man. His shuffling steps scuffed the ground. His face was pale. He fumbled as he walked tiredly with bowed shoulders. A black shadow of a dog rolled past him like a ball. Ahead in his path, a trail of street kids was asleep on boxes. There was two or three people walking around. He stopped at the end of the row. He bent over as he pulled a box from a little boy who was fast asleep. âMove, share some spaceâ, he whispered as the little boy awoke.
âI looked for you, where did you go?â he asked him as he hugged him. âI thought I had lost you.â
âWeâve lost a good friendâ, he responded. âNgale is gone!â he was crying silently. âWhat else did he say before going?â
âNothing elseâ, he responded. âWill she be alright? And where is Havana?â the little boy asked softly and pitifully.
âShe will be with her mother. She will be fineâ, he said as he slept down. âItâs late, sleep.â He looked up at the blanket of stars that stretched to infinity on the open side of the market. He was in pain with only one name on his mind, Ngale.
Ngale walked out of the train. She stared at the total darkness. âThere are no lightsâ, there goes her first impression of Havana. She was shocked. An elderly woman was with her. She held her hand and pulled her by the corner of a sun shelter. âThere are lights at some houses. But only at a few of them. They are powered by either solar or generator. Hydro-electricity does not reach this town. They donât even know what ZESCO is hereâ, the woman said.
They were people still leaving the train. The trunks were being offloaded. It was quiet if not for the locomotives of the train. But there were a number of people. Some were standing barely at the end waiting to receive their relatives and friends. The woman asked Ngale to point her mother, but she couldnât see her. âThe man said your mother was going to be waiting for you. How come sheâs not here.â
Suddenly there was a voice of a drunk woman shouting, âWhereâs my daughter, whereâs she? Ngale!â She was approaching the train as she walked past them dressed like a w***e. There was a man complaining at the door of the train, âThis is midnight and look at her she comes to pick up her daughter drunk.â
The bewitching hour was going down. The elderly woman was shocked at the possibly Ngaleâs mother. âIs this your mom?â she asked.
âYesâ, she answered sharply as her face contorted with rage. She glared at her mom hostilely. Her lip was curled by fury. âCan I spend a night with you, aunt Molly? Just one night?â she asked the elderly woman.
âBut daughter-â
âIt will be alright, letâs just act like she didnât come to pick me up for now until morning. Shall we?â
âSheâll be angry, but you are so good a daughter to have such a mom. So, Iâll do as you wish.â
She granted her wish. They took an old-looking Peugeot 504 transport car to Aunt Mollyâs wooden cabin. âHey, check out, this is where you will sleepâ, she told her, right in her hand was a candle. They were some charcoal bags right where her eyes stared.
âWhereâs the smoke coming from?â Ngale asked looking at the heavy smoke clouding the night sky.
âThe garbage is always burning.â
âIs that where the sewage smell is coming from?â
âThis place, the whole of Havana is a place like no other. If I tell people about it, they think itâs fictious. Have you watched âRANGOâ before?â Aunt Molly asked.
âItâs a cartoon. I watched it with a best friend when we sneaked into a movie showroomâ, she said smiling.
âWell, this district functions quite the same. Very populated and yet surrounded by bare land. No direct attachment to any other district. The only way to get here is through the railway, and the big dust road on the other side, called the Almightyâ, she said standing at the door. âDo you pray?â
âHow do you pray?â Ngale asked back while she sat on a traditional African bed.
âBy uttering your heart wishes to God. He answers. Goodnight, deerâ, she closed the door and left.
Ngale remained alone. The bright sky poured through her window. She wanted to pray, but she had never done it before. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, âFor those I have loved I have left, what is there to wish for? A day so warm and family turned into a night so cold and lonely. If I have a wish, then it is this one; take care of my father. Take care of Paoneke and his little brother. And kill those screeching owls.â She laid staring at the roof. She looked through the window at the blanket of stars that stretched to infinity. She was in pain.
(Next Episode 2)
Thanks for taking time to read. Like, comment and share!!!
