When we marched into the city proudly, chanting carrying our flags visible where they could see clearly, they were waiting for us. They tried to silence us but our voices grew stronger. They threw cans at us that in turn brought about tears to our eyes. When we tried to look for water for ablution they captured and arrested us. They stripped our clothes, dragged us through the streets and displayed us in the town square. They tied all of our hands together, we were all mixed the believers and non-believers, the clean and the unclean, we inconsolably cried for our people.

Although our leader was isolated from us and executed before our very eyes, we were not afraid. Our faith grew stronger. They wanted to know if we had left our heads at home or whether we were of sound mind. When the city settlers knew of our captivity, they came to witness and gaped at us. Most of them drew mucus from the back of their throats and spat at us. They cried out to us to remember our children. We asked ourselves what children they were talking about, they had wiped out all of them. We were astonished by their callousness.
They insulted our course and questioned if we truly understood what freedom was. A few murmurs were heard in the crowd in response then silence again. Some of us were too hungry and tired to speak, most of us did not understand their language so we remained silent. Some of us were too sorrowful watching the blood of our own kin flowing in the streets mixing with the dirt.

The men of God had been praying all afternoon. Almost all of us were too tired to join them in prayer. They appreciated our efforts, they did not bother to question the strength of our faith. At this time our bodies grew weaker and dropped one by one. Many of our lives were lost that day. They poked fun at us to rile us up. When they succeeded in provoking (the short-tempered) us they found a reason to eliminate us. Satisfied and pleased with themselves they left our bodies out in the open to be eaten by the birds of the air.

They were wise, they did not prematurely celebrate when we revealed they had already captured our leader. They did not hastily celebrate the false sense of triumph. They were determined to massacre us. To leave no stone unturned was their intention.

They were fools, they made false accusations. They claimed through our actions, we were committing treason. They in turn named us terrorists. That was impossible we thought to ourselves. In disbelief, we looked at each other wondering when that came to be. We scratched our heads and decided maybe just maybe, we did not understand what terrorism truly meant in their language. We celebrated and gave ourselves another identity. We were martyrs. We were the children of the land.

In the evening when the sun was coming down, when the wind was strongly blowing sand into our mouths and eyes and we had to pull our cloths over our faces, the message became very clear. When the noise quietened and our bodies became light, we opened our ears to heed to the voice addressing. At that hour, when we tasted the flat but building taste, the cooling effect of the gun pointed to our mouths. That is when we all understood what freedom tasted like.













Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash