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
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