Gun Life

Life of a gun

Since I was born till form three, I can say proudly am happy to be alive. Yes because my life was used to that gun……..Thanks be to God.

Did I say gun? Oh yeah. A gun.  An AK47 rifle. They (name with-hold for privacy) used to raid our cattle. Back in school during first break or after it, while in class, our ears were set to hear that scream alerting us to get up to the escarpment (lagam) for our safety.

There is this particular day I was well seated in the front desk of my class when I heard that usual scream. Did I say usual? Mmmmm yah, because it was the norm.  Uuuuui ara Koibirir!!! (a scream alerting “they” were in another hill called Koibirir.) I tried to let my feeble legs safe me the agony of being killed by running ……

Up in the “lagam” I could not trace my brother who happens to be the last born in our family. Dying for my brother I had to go back and look for him. As in the teaching of Jesus in the parable of lost sheep, I could not breathe leaving my brother in a risk of death. On my half way I found my brother just crying for help. Indeed when he so he was kind of relieved. I suppose tears of joy ran down his cheeks.

But wait, the danger was still on; “they” were coming for the cattle. If at all they were for the cattle alone it could be better, but they could not spare anyone that came across their eyes, so I had to take my brother further for safety. Indeed we were both safe.

On that fateful day, a family who happens to be my close relatives was killed. An old man, his son and the wife of the son, all three were killed. Lord may they rest in peace…. Ka Chepchemei. Tears rolling down……………………………..

#to be continued