The Wagalla massacre .10.2.1984. The Wagalla massacre , a poem

10.2.1984. The Wagalla massacre

They left their beds that morn’

None sensed the danger imminent,

Death looming precariously overhead.

10.2.1984

A week of torture.

5 days

120 hours

7200 minutes.

The angel of death-

An opportunistic vulture tragedy swooped

Its talons wrung around innocent necks

Life smothered.

The Degodia clan wept.

Wajir. The northern frontier.

Wajir weeps for justice

The arid lands,

Exhausted barren land and soil-

That day drank in great relish,

Drop after drop of human blood.

The fluid of life eroded the last traces of sanctity.

The day was painted crimson red.

The day screamt the colour of lost life

From the horizon rode a dark cloud of mourning.

The wings of death soared over the land.

Blood oozed from the wounded, dead and the dying.

Solid drops of liquid pain-

The screams of a lost generation.

The Degodia wept.

They still weep

JUSTICE!

Those yet to kiss their fate,

Screamt and wept.

Against hope hoped

Helpless and hapless.

Each painfully dropped – gunned down

Lead bullet after lead bullet…

Poor souls playing pawns-

CHESS

The old stabbed to death,

Slaughter and mutilation the fate of the youthful.

Young budding spirits wiped out.

Women scarred in an unholy way.

Battered, forcibly possessed

Defiled.

Wajir still weeps.

She cries for her sons and daughters

She laments the injustice

Wajir weeps 10.2.1984

Scars of sorrowful memories still loom.

Memories of five days days.

10.2.1984.

32 years later!

 Memories haunt us.

Five days, five days, five bitter days-

Days of the Wagalla massacre