For the love of political parties, people would sacrifice their lives. I couldn’t really relate. How do they come to doing that? I had felt even for the candidate, the best i could do is sacrifice a chicken. But i wouldn’t even do that. He wouldn’t be needing any of my kindness because soon as he assumes office, his door would remain closed to us.
It was 24th December already and everyone was up and about sewing new dresses, making new hairs and buying the entire market. My reaction was different: I just wanted to sleep a little more, write in my journal, and wait for the whole festive frenzy to simmer down before i opened my complaint can. This would be the 4th time that i would go without a Christmas dress (not like i cared), the same time that my family members would analyze the forthcoming elections and predict results that were unrealistic, and the 4th time that my birthday would have gone by unnoticed.
Dad was outside skinning a miserable-looking goat. Mum was humming in a sing-along in the kitchen, stirring her pot of fish and reducing the heat from the burner. My little cousins were building a Lego house in the living room. This was the same scenario 4 years ago before the violence broke out. Such beauty and calmness that only lasts temporarily. I dare to say that things would be no different this time.