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The Event

The weather, as per the norm in this country was hot. As if the sun itself had come down to partake in this spectacle about to take place. The landscape was arid,dusty and desolate of any greenery, had I not seen it before in its purity, the teeming masses now joining to expand the congregation would have disallowed such recollections. Human bodies were everywhere, black shiny skin glistening in sweat, their eyes blood shot but alert. Chanting war cries that epitomized their struggles against oppression. The general himself was at the helm of the mob. Dressed in his full regalia, he brandished a sword pointing it sky wards like a holy warrior, behind him, his men followed in religious fervor. Dedication like this is dangerous. My host for so many days and I walked at a leisurely pace , I soaking in the sights of this ritual, my host was almost a man resigned to some fate only he knew. The mob was in its hundreds now. All armed to the teeth. Sporadic firing filled the air, bullets hummed by closely. I had come to learn by now that regardless of the direction of fire, a stray bullet meant for you was going to find you, no matter what evasive maneuvers you took. “this is an impressive turn out”. I said to the doctor. “Hmm” he said. For an educated man he was a one for few words. In the cacophony of the noise our silence was awkward. It put me at unease.
“how often does this sort of gathering happen?’ I asked the doctor.
“at any given opportunity” he replied, “unfortunately these days they have been happening a lot”.
I thought about his reply for a moment, perhaps it was the regime’s way of bolstering morale.
“It must mean a lot to the soldiers, these war parades” I asked.
He turned to look at me, and once again it was in his eyes, Bright white with small jet black pupils. The kind of eyes that have seen too much. His forehead wrinkled in a kind of stress.
“alas sir, this is not a war parade’; he replied
“Then what is it”?
“An execution”
“Oh?
Public executions were not uncommon here, but it intrigued me as to whom the victims would be.
“Who’s”? I asked
The doctor turned to me; I could not fathom the look in his eyes this time. This time they gave nothing away.

“Yours”…

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