Remember Atita (2)
Another evening on the veranda. Okema asks about Laker. 'She's fine,' I say without looking at him. 'Nearly fine.'
'You should leave Gulu,' Okema says, 'and go back to your comfortable life, where you lived before. It's crazy looking for friends who won't remember you.'
I spend the nights on the veranda because my friends lived like this while I slept safe and warm. I am ashamed that I was not with them. The rain washes away the pain in my heart. I tell Okema he cannot understand why I visit Laker every day.
A cameraman walks past, and takes pictures of us. Okema spits at him.
'Why did you spit at him?' I ask.
'He's making money out of our misery.'
'Perhaps he's from the newspapers.'
'You're new to this business of homelessness.'
Okema is right. I know nothing about this nightlife. Tonight we hear heavy gunshots. The voices of the other children stop, and the radio is turned off. Okema recognizes the kind of gun. He knows all the different guns and the sounds they make.
Laker manages a smile today. She's a little friendlier. Again her fingers feel my face and the scar under my chin. She touches it with one finger... Perhaps the scar is saying something to her. She smiles.
'Atita?' she whispers.
'Yes, Atita, Won Okech's Atita.' I take her hand.
'Otoo. Won Okech otoo.'
'I'm here,' I whisper.
Laker pulls away her hand and starts rocking on the bed. I look in her eyes and find myself travelling down a dirt road. Now I'm behind Won Okech's house. The five of us are standing under a mango tree, laughing. We have just made a seesaw. I sit on one end, then Laker jumps on the other. As the seesaw goes up, I fall off and my chin hits the ground. I scream in pain.
Laker stops rocking. Her eyes are empty again. My heart is beating fast, as I remember what happened that day.
Okema sits on the veranda, studying. His examination is soon. I don't talk to him this evening. I let him read. He has to work on his dream of becoming President. Who knows? He may bring us the peace that he promises.
When I visit Laker next morning, it's like the first day. There is no expression on her face. And I have so many questions to ask her! I help her to sit up and drink some black tea. I pull out the torn photo and point to the other girls.
'Laker, tell me about Oyella?'
She looks at me. Her eyes tell me she recognizes the name.
'What happened to Oyella?' I ask.
She suddenly seems to be in pain. She starts rocking. I try to calm her, but she only rocks faster. Her eyes take on a dreamy look, and her words are hurried and strange.
The men came to the village and took them away. They tied them with ropes and made them walk a long way. Some of the men hit the girls with sticks or with their guns, to make them go faster. Someone fell, and stayed on the ground. She turned her face. OYELLA. Our Oyella. One of the gunmen shouted to her to get up. On her face was fear, and then, nothing. She was ready to die.
-Do you want to rest? the man asked.
-Yes, she said in a weak voice.
-You can have your wish, he laughed as he shot her between the eyes.
She made no sound. Later, the other girl ran away and came to Gulu Hospital.'
Laker stops rocking. She's breathing fast. She starts laughing wildly, crazily. I leave her bedside and run outside. I cry. In the photo Oyella's smile has gone and so has her face. Instead, there's a patch of grey. I stare at the sky. It's still blue, and the hospital still stands there.
'Oyella is dead,' I tell Okema that evening.
'I'm sorry,' he says and holds my hand. We sit close together on the veranda. It's another cold, starry night. I look up at the sky and see a full moon. Perhaps the gods up there are looking down at us and laughing at our misery.
'One day this will end,' Okema says.
'Yes,' I say hopelessly.
Today Laker smiles brightly when she sees me. She looks different now, with her hair cut and clean. The wild look has gone. As I sit beside her, she touches the scar under my chin.
I help her off the bed. We walk slowly to the door and go outside, where we sit under the large mango tree. She likes it here, and lies on her back with her head on my knees. I don't know how long we sit there under the mango tree. We watch the sun disappear and see the shadows get longer as they fall on the hospital windows. Laker lifts her head and looks at me.
'What's that song we used to sing?' she asks.
I smile. 'Min latin do, tedo i dye wor... My mother is cooking at night,' I sing quietly.
She closes her eyes and listens to me. Then she opens her eyes. I feel her looking fixedly at my scar, then at my neck. She laughs lightly.
'Atita, bangle-necked Atita,' she whispers.
A smile comes to her lips, very slowly, it lights up, and burns brightly like a flame. She remembered!
- THE END -
