FLASH FICTION 𝒃𝒚 Bienvenue Ruhigita
Poverty Our Home
Poverty Our Home
James Junior was arrested on the allegation of instigating people for revolt by making rebellious speeches. His father James Senior had also faced the same charges and was shot dead by the firing squad as to punish him and to teach a lesson to others. James Junior was born on the same day and his mother named him after his father’s name.
The court allowed him to speak after his repeated requests — an unexpected thing which was never allowed and was also not allowed to his father. The other different thing was that he was provided an Advocate to defend his case — another unexpected thing which took place for the first time in the history colonial slavery era.
James Junior started to speak gently with eyes full of tears, “So, finally, the world failed to rotate and it was covered with the dark bracket. Rain refuses to dance for our land to be impregnated by it. Now it is six in evening, dreams are coming alive on heads of villagers and eyes are drying up with smelling wishes.
“We were made to be twins with Americans but God changed his mind, and drop a sob bomb between our colours. I am the only son of a widowed woman.
“Although we are laugh sometimes, millions fighters fetched guns from their pockets to shoot laws which are killing us like volcano. We are living but dead in 2 century.
“Please, don’t stop me from crying. Tears help me to see my future and what I should be mute too. Our houses are made from bamboos and covered with stinking coconut leaves. Tears help me to see myself in a big school, schooling for being a lawyer and build many international Schools for Africans. My heart is bleeding and my eyes want to see black people moving from POVERTY by stepping in richness and spend life in enjoyment. It is tough but enough I want to witness improvement of local economics in our land — I mean to end hunger.
“We are all one, let throw racisms to street dogs
“Listen am speaking! Look behind our memories. Our bare hands act as machines, we do and transport everything by it and we have no one to speak for us. I am the only son from a widowed mother, I want to see people opening they mouths and speak for they own right and freedom, for Africa to be a democracy continent where civilians will be solving problems with leaders.
“A long struggle not to be laughed at. Remember war. It acha but it was folded by a stream of life. Life is heavily weighed, our feet are bare for years and our toes are sticking out day by day. We fought with our patriotic songs searching for our buried love, peace and unity but we didn’t get it. Work hand in hand to be one hand. We need Africa to shine with its beautiful natural resources. Please I won’t stop crying a till all Africans put on shoes.
“I gather cassavas which were beautiful pointed with different soil on my wooden bench to narrate to people about Africa we want to see. My body is poisoned with the present Africa and as am a BANTU I have no value but only weeping. Let believe in our ancestral spirit by wearing our cultural sermons and practice of polygamy. Look to put our cultures alive without coping outside cultures. We want girls and boys to be equal here in Africa.
“Some people think that we’re better with all truth under our shocking lips. Sometimes we sacrifice time for others. We want Africa to have its own flag where green will be all over and red will be shaded on it for family planning to be obtained and troops looking after us — I don’t mean security — for genocide to be washed in Africa. I told ladies and gentlemen who had fenced me.
“Time flies. Take back my sense. I don’t want to lose my identity. But when will witness it change? No matter how our minds are short like that for grasshopper but when will it change? I looked around and see people crying for hunger, I realize that Africa is a melting pot which needs people to throw fine on it for it to be saved.
“I wish to meet my future this morning. Yes. Ha! Ha! Ha! People laughed.
“Our efforts are effortless, our mouths are agape with collapsing dreams and we are rotten. We want to witness creative people and achievement in Africa, may God bless us. AMEN.”
When James Junior finished, his attorney stood form his chair. “You listened, my Lord. He has gone insane. He has lost his senses. He talked all the time stupidly. He may be exonerated.” He said, bowing before the magistrate.
“What is the guarantee he won’t instigate people anymore?” The magistrate asked him.
“He is a habitual criminal. He has been sent to jail by the Police Commissioner twice for three months each time to mend his ways. But he didn’t. He does not deserve any mercy. If he is not penalized with death, it will courage up others to raise mutiny.” The prosecutor abruptly interrupted.
“OK, sit down please.” The magistrate said and then turned to James Junior defender. “Do you have any guarantee?”
He shook his head.
“It has proved that he is a tempter and dangerous to the peaceful people. The Police Commissioner is ordered of flogging him after branding him a slave and then he must be sent him to the island of the wolves.” The magistrate announced.
….
(Self-translation from Kifulero/Fuliiru)
****
James Junior was
arrested on the allegation of instigating people for revolt by making
rebellious speeches. His father James Senior had also faced the same charges
and was shot dead by the firing squad as to punish him and to teach a lesson to
others. James Junior was born on the same day and his mother named him after
his father’s name.
The court allowed him
to speak after his repeated requests — an unexpected thing which was never
allowed and was also not allowed to his father. The other different thing was
that he was provided an Advocate to defend his case — another unexpected thing
which took place for the first time in the history colonial slavery era.
James Junior started to
speak gently with eyes full of tears, “So, finally, the world failed to rotate
and it was covered with the dark bracket. Rain refuses to dance for our land to
be impregnated by it. Now it is six in evening, dreams are coming alive on
heads of villagers and eyes are drying up with smelling wishes.
“We were made to be
twins with Americans but God changed his mind, and drop a sob bomb between our
colours. I am the only son of a widowed woman.
“Although we are laugh
sometimes, millions fighters fetched guns from their pockets to shoot laws
which are killing us like volcano. We are living but dead in 2 century.
“Please, don’t stop me
from crying. Tears help me to see my future and what I should be mute too. Our
houses are made from bamboos and covered with stinking coconut leaves. Tears
help me to see myself in a big school, schooling for being a lawyer and build
many international Schools for Africans. My heart is bleeding and my eyes want
to see black people moving from POVERTY by stepping in richness and spend life
in enjoyment. It is tough but enough I want to witness improvement of local
economics in our land — I mean to end hunger.
“We are all one, let
throw racisms to street dogs.
“Listen am speaking! Look
behind our memories. Our bare hands act as machines, we do and transport
everything by it and we have no one to speak for us. I am the only son from a
widowed mother, I want to see people opening they mouths and speak for they own
right and freedom, for Africa to be a democracy continent where civilians will
be solving problems with leaders.
“A long struggle not to
be laughed at. Remember war. It acha but it was folded by a
stream of life. Life is heavily weighed, our feet are bare for years and our
toes are sticking out day by day. We fought with our patriotic songs searching
for our buried love, peace and unity but we didn’t get it. Work hand in hand to
be one hand. We need Africa to shine with its beautiful natural resources. Please
I won’t stop crying a till all Africans put on shoes.
“I gather cassavas
which were beautiful pointed with different soil on my wooden bench to narrate
to people about Africa we want to see. My body is poisoned with the present
Africa and as am a BANTU I have no value but only weeping. Let believe in our ancestral
spirit by wearing our cultural sermons and practice of polygamy. Look to put
our cultures alive without coping outside cultures. We want girls and boys to
be equal here in Africa.
“Some people think that
we’re better with all truth under our shocking lips. Sometimes we sacrifice
time for others. We want Africa to have its own flag where green will be all
over and red will be shaded on it for family planning to be obtained and troops
looking after us — I don’t mean security — for genocide to be washed in Africa.
I told ladies and gentlemen who had fenced me.
“Time flies. Take back
my sense. I don’t want to lose my identity. But when will witness it change? No
matter how our minds are short like that for grasshopper but when will it change?
I looked around and see people crying for hunger, I realize that Africa is a
melting pot which needs people to throw fine on it for it to be saved.
“I wish to meet my
future this morning. Yes. Ha! Ha! Ha! People
laughed.
“Our efforts are
effortless, our mouths are agape with collapsing dreams and we are rotten. We
want to witness creative people and achievement in Africa, may God bless us. AMEN.”
When James Junior
finished, his attorney stood form his chair. “You listened, my Lord. He has
gone insane. He has lost his senses. He talked all the time stupidly. He may be
exonerated.” He said, bowing before the magistrate.
“What is the guarantee
he won’t instigate people anymore?” The magistrate
asked him.
“He is a habitual
criminal. He has been sent to jail by the Police Commissioner twice for three
months each time to mend his ways. But he didn’t. He does not deserve any
mercy. If he is not penalized with death, it will courage up others to raise
mutiny.” The prosecutor abruptly interrupted.
“OK, sit down please.”
The magistrate said and then turned to James Junior defender. “Do you have any
guarantee?”
He shook his head.
“It has proved that he
is a tempter and dangerous to the peaceful people. The Police Commissioner is
ordered of flogging him after branding him a slave and then he must be sent him
to the island of the wolves.” The magistrate announced.
….
(Self-translation from Kifulero/Fuliiru)
****
