by Donna White
Each of the boys picked up a gun and did the same.
“You ram the butt of the gun into this part here, beside your shoulder. That keep it steady steady.”
The boys followed his lead.
“Then you hold it here,” he said, indicating the black grip handle, “and point this finger forward. Then you hold the front with your left hand, like this.” Charlie glanced at everyone’s grip on their guns.
“Then there is only to press the trigger and fire. It will kick back some, but if you hold your feet firm and spread like this”—he stood with his legs apart—“it will keep you strong. You must keep this leg like this, and the other leg like this. Not so much turned as the other. See. See?”
The boys watched and nodded.
“And you must bend your knee. But only little little. If you bend too much, you will lose the balance.”
They bent their knees, imitating Charlie as best as they could.
“That is good good. Now lean forward. But only a little. Yes, that is it. Now grab a magazine and do this.” Charlie took a metal cartridge and knocked the first magazine from the gun. Before it fell to the ground, he had the second cartridge inserted and ready to fire.
Everyone, including Fire, looked on in amazement.
Charlie shrugged. “It take practice just. Now you try.”
Everyone did as Charlie said. Magazines fell to the ground, attempts were made to insert the cartridges as quickly as possible, but no one came close to matching his speed.
“Keep on trying. Do not try for speed. Work on getting the clip in properly; practice again and again, then the speed will come.”
Charlie watched Peter fumble with the clip, awkwardly forcing it into the gun until it finally clicked into place.
“My mom still call me her latin gunya,” Peter said, putting the butt of the rifle into the ground and trying to yank the magazine out. “It is these long arm, eeh. Sometime I think my real dad came from the forest in Bwindi.”
Charlie laughed.
“I think that explain why I have this urge to climb tree all the time.”
“As long as you do not want to start building your bed up there and grow fond of leave and termite.”
Peter tilted his head and looked at Charlie through narrowed eyes. “Eeh. I do not know if I am far far off. Sometime when the food was low at the refugee camp, I would look at those termite hill and wonder.”
“Oh, termite? They are not bad bad. They taste like carrot.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But not as crunchy.”
Peter shuddered and Charlie laughed.
Charlie turned his attention to Naboth and watched him knock the magazine out of the gun and reinsert the other cartridge with ease. Naboth then took a step to the side, spread his legs, threw the butt of the gun into his shoulder, and aimed it at an imaginary target. “Those commander, they think big is big. But we will show the gu-men that they are nothing but ka-boy.” He turned his back to Charlie and aimed at a bird perched on a branch.
Charlie walked away from the group and leaned his head against a tree.
“Yes, sir. I will do that, sir,” the young soldier said as the commander turned on his heel and walked away.
“You are a latunge ki remo. You know that, eeh?” Charlie laughed. “You put your nose up that commander butt any farther and you will smell nothing but cet for the rest of your life.”
“You call me a brownnoser? You laugh now, but you wait. Soon I will be a commander and you will be listening to me, ka-boy.”
Charlie went quiet. “You are serious here, Acama? Tell me you are not.”
“You are stupid, Charlie. Look at what the commander have: more food, less work. They are feared. No one touches them. They give the order on who will live and who die. I am going to be a commander.”
Charlie shook his head. “But what are you a commander of? This place reek of evil.”
Acama stepped back. “Reek of evil? What evil? You heard it yourself. The LRA is here to protect us from Museveni. Our own president. He is the one who has sent his army to kill the Acholi. He is from the south. He hate us in the north. You heard what Otti said. Museveni sent in the soldier to steal our cattle. Our cattle. That which show us we are rich. Museveni is the one who force us into the crowded camp and take our land from us.”
Charlie resisted clamping his hands over his ears. He had never heard his friend talk like this.
“We should be proud to be soldier in the LRA. At least we are fighting for our people. Those people who do not provide us with food and supply, the parent who do not give of their children willingly to be soldier—they are the enemy.”
Charlie shook his head in disbelief; he looked away.
“Come, we need to teach these people a lesson. They say our gun are rusty. We will show them.”
Charlie followed Acama as the group made their way quickly through the bush, but with stealth, careful not to make any noise, until they came to a clearing. Charlie glimpsed a school building, and heard the chatter of the students and teachers as they reviewed their lessons. The pair crept to the rear of the building and edged to the first door. Acama stepped into the room, raised his gun, and pointed it at the teacher. The teacher calmly placed the piece of chalk on the ledge.
“Take your gun and your evil out of here!” he demanded as Charlie peered around Acama.
“Our evil? And what evil could that be?” Acama replied. “You are the one who is evil. We come to free our country, and you,” he said, shoving the gun into the man’s chest, “you dare to seek the protection of the UPDF? You dare to take the side of your enemy! Only a coward would do that!”
****
“Charlie?”
Fire touched him gently on his cheek. He looked in her direction, but he stared into nothing, seeing nothing. She grasped Charlie’s hands and held them tight. She pulled him closer to her and held his gaze, then waited until he blinked and a glimmer of recognition came to his face.
“Charlie,” she said firmly.
He looked at her, startled. “It was more ajiji.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It took me away. It took my spirit and it made me see it. Again.”
“And once is enough,” Fire said, still holding onto Charlie’s hands.
“Yes, once is enough.”
The group stared at Fire and Charlie in silence.
“I think we should all head to our home and eat,” Fire said calmly. “We have learned lots today.” She passed her gun to Jonasan and took Charlie by the arm. “Let us go, Charlie. I am craving an egg.”
Chapter 13
If you observe attentively you will even
find wisdom in shadows. ~ African proverb
Fire waited for the small flames to turn the wood into hot coals, then poured some water into a pot and threw in a couple of handfuls of rice. She placed the pot on the embers and covered it with a flat stone then set another pan on the fire and poured a tiny amount of oil into the middle. With experienced hands she took a small ball of dough from a bowl and quickly turned it into a perfect flat circle. The oil sputtered as she put the dough onto the pan. She closed her eyes and breathed in the tantalizing smell.
Charlie sat on the ground beside her and grabbed a little piece of dough from the bowl and flattened it between his hands.
“Here,” she said, taking the dough from Charlie. “Turn it around and around as you flatten it, and push at the side. Then it will come out like this.” She held up a near-perfect circle. “Then it will brown evenly and you will not have the burnt spot.”
He took another handful of dough and bit his lower lip as he tried to form a patty as she had shown him. He held out an oval piece, thick on one side and thin on the other, and passed it to Fire.
She glanced at it and smiled. “Much better,” she said as she evened it out and placed it on the pan. She gave Charlie another piece and took one for herself.
Within minutes the pan was filled with the small brown patties. The oil b
ubbled around their edges. The smell was heavenly. Charlie swallowed and grabbed a stick to spear a piece.
“No. You will have to wait. They will be hot and need to cool.”
He stuck out his bottom lip and looked at Fire with his big brown eyes. She laughed.
“They will be cool in a couple of minute,” she said, taking the pan off the fire and setting it on the ground. “But while we wait I want to show you something.”
She placed a basket on the ground beside her and crouched on her knees, facing Charlie. Reaching into the basket, she set out a pile of stones and a handful of flowers. She ran her fingers over the stones’ rough surfaces, then brought a flower to her nose, breathing in its perfume.
“I have been filling my mind with many thought this evening,” she said. “And I would like to put word to these thought, if you can sit with me and hear them.”
Charlie nodded. She began.
“When you were born, there was a great celebration and much happiness.” She placed a flower in front of Charlie. “And there were many many good day that followed.” She picked up another flower. “You were given a name,” she said, setting it next to the one lying on the ground. “And you learned to walk and talk, and to give love, and to be the one to receive this love.” She placed more flowers in a row. “And you drew water from the well, and you tended the goat, and you studied your lesson, drawing all your letter in the dirt under the acacia tree.” She added more flowers.
“But in this life of yours, you also learned about hatred.” She placed a stone between two flowers. “And pain,” she said, adding another stone, “and anger.” She drew another stone from the pile and disrupted the long line of flowers.
“There was the first time you learned that no one could live forever, and not even your love could bring them alive again. And then there was the first time you realized not all could be fair. There would be those who have plenty and those whose belly would grow swollen with the hunger.
“But despite all this, your life was good because there were more flower than stone.”
Charlie looked at the line of flowers and stones and nodded.
“But then Kony came.” Fire grabbed a handful of stones from the basket and dropped them at the end of the line. “And there were no more flower. Only fear and pain and suffering and death. And even as you try now, after you have escaped, there are no more flower, for the stone keep falling and falling.”
Charlie’s eyes moistened.
Fire scooped the rest of the flowers from the basket and laid them on top of the pile of stones. “I am thinking that you are in need of many many flower to do away with the stone that keep falling.”
She lifted Charlie’s chin and gazed into his eyes, watching a tear course down his cheek.
“My maa told me this: we all have two shadow. When you turn your back to the sun, the shadow of your past will always be in front of you. But if you face the sun, your shadow will fall behind you and you will only see the future. You must learn to face the sun, Charlie, and leave the past. But I do not know how you can do this.” She paused and picked up a flower. “I can search, but it will not help you. You need to find your own flower. But remember this: the flower does not grow well if it is in the shadow. Turn your back, and if it is possible you will see your own flower grow. And then, perhaps, you will be able to feel your freedom.” She dropped the flower into Charlie’s hand. He squeezed it and held it tight in his fist.
Fire stood and brushed the dirt from her dress. She grabbed a couple of plates from her bag and set them on the ground and divided the patties between the two of them.
“There,” she said. “That is all I have to say. I have told you my thought, and perhaps it will help you, perhaps it will not. But it is something you can think on.”
She took the stone off the pot and spooned the rice onto the plates.
“We will eat, and then I will see Maisha for a moment before we head back to the school.”
Fire passed a plate to Charlie and sat on the ground holding a plate to her chin. She scooped a handful of rice into her fingers, brought it to her mouth, and paused. She dropped the rice onto her plate, turned her head toward the bush, and listened. The only sound she could hear was the screeching of the monkeys and the squawking of the birds in the high canopy. She placed her plate on the ground, reached into her bag, and pulled out a handful of stones and bones. “Maybe the spirit will speak to me again, like they did when they showed me the cache. Perhaps they are on my side now.” She knelt and shook the stones and dropped them onto the ground.
Charlie leaned over and stared. “What is it?”
“There is something out there. But the spirit are not speaking to me. I am confused. They are very silent.”
She leaned forward, staring at the stones, cupping her chin in her hand.
“No. It is useless. Kony magic is strong. And I think it is getting stronger.” Fire leaned back on her knees and closed her eyes.
She began to hum and chant, but the words did not come from her mouth; they came from her throat, guttural and strong. “Ik i . . . Ik i . . . shay me no . . . shay me no . . . shay me no . . .”
Fire stopped and silence filled the yard. She opened her eyes and looked at the stones and bones again. “No. I see something, but it is too faint for my eye. The color are blurred and the line are not keeping all the image in their place.”
She placed the charms back in the bag and returned to her seat. Then she put her plate on her lap and scooped up a handful of rice. “No. I will try again later.” She chewed on the rice, slowly and methodically.
Charlie lifted his plate to his lips and brushed the last of the rice into his mouth. “Apwoyo matek.”
Fire nodded as she continued to stare into the bush.
Charlie grabbed a handful of long grass from behind the hut and sat beside her. He took off his shoes and removed a pile of dried grass from the toes and threw it onto the coals. Then he crumpled the new grass into a ball and shoved it into the toe of one shoe, packing it in tightly.
“What is with the shoe, Charlie?”
“My angel has big feet.”
“Your angel?”
“Yes, Bruce, my angel. He is big big. He look like he is a man but he is a boy just. He footed it with me on the road to Lira.” Charlie laughed. “I did not know he was an angel. I thought he was only a stupid white boy.”
“White?”
“Yes, he was as white as the cloud before they take on the rain, and he was as stupid as a romo, but without the woolly coat. He did not know a thing. Nothing about the war or why we were footin’ it to Lira. And he did not think. He stole food, and when it was found out he was a thief we were put in the jela.”
“Jail? They put a young boy like you in the jail? Now why would they do that?”
“I did not know. But I was scared scared. I told the chief I had been taken by Kony, and when the officer heard this he made plan to kill me. I was terrified and mad at my angel. How could he do such a stupid thing and put my life in danger?” Charlie’s brow furrowed. “I could not think. In my mind all I could see was my body hanging from the great branch of an acacia tree and my feet dangling in the wind.”
Fire shook her head. She didn’t like the image either.
“But my angel Bruce is very strong. And now that I think, he was not so dumb after all.” He laughed again. “He did this thing with his head”—Charlie brought his head down quickly, imitating a head butt—“and the officer, he fell to the floor just, like a dead dead stone, and he did not get up.”
Fire narrowed her eyes at Charlie. “You are sure of this?”
“Yes. And then he spread his wing and he flew away, carrying me to a tree where he fed me manna and washed my feet and gave me his shoe.”
“This angel, Bruce, he had wing?”
“Oh, yes. They were large wing, for he was very large too.”
“And he gave you his shoe?”
“Yes. And then he put me into a deep sleep
, and when I woke he was gone. He had done his work and had to go to help someone else.”
“I see.”
“That is what angel do. They help someone, and then they must leave so they can help another.”
“Yes, that is the way of the angel. I think they are busy busy.” Fire nodded.
“And then another angel came to me. And this one, his name was Scott. I think God must have many many angel. But he was also stupid. Scott thought he knew so much, but he was like Bruce just. I do not know if all angel are stupid like this, but Scott talked to me when I was in the deepest of sadness and told me I was a good person. He made my heart stronger and made me want to escape again.”
A smile flickered across his face. “He gave me a stone. And he told me to give it to Kony. He said the stone had the power to change people, and if I was to give it to Kony it would make him change and the war would end.”
He let out a long sigh. “But I do not think the magic is working because Kony is still taking children, and he is still evil. He has not changed.”
Fire placed her hand on his shoulder and stood. “No, you are right. He has not changed.”
Charlie reached into the bag and pulled out a small basin and poured some water into it. “I miss my angel. Even though Scott and Bruce were not all that smart, they were good good angel. I do not know if I will see them again.”
“Eeh, I am sure if they want to they will fly down and see you again.”
Charlie shook his head. “No, that is not how they are able to come to me. It is the stone that bring them to me. The stone have power.”
“Stone? Like the stone you gave Kony?”
“Yes, a beautiful green stone. With a thread of silver that move over it as you turn it in your hand.”
Fire added the plates to the water and began to wash them. She shook her head in disbelief. “Stone that have power, angel with wing, and manna. I can believe it, and yet I do not.”
“But why? Why do you not believe?”
“There is much evil. Sometime I think this will all end, but it has gone on for a long long time. I do not remember a day in my life when we did not have this war. And it make me wonder—and I hate myself for thinking this—but perhaps God has left Uganda, Charlie.”