PRESTON :
I was too tired to even pen down my name....With flashes of my before days... It was so hot in my plastic bag tent...Here in the heart of Somali....Tuned to the national radio... With hopes high it is over....
I held my little brother's hands and assured him it's OK.... But deep down I knew it wasn't... We had just robbed him his natural sanity.... News from Nairobi started it was a nuke shell.... I didn't have the chance to see it.... But I believe them....Stray tears run.... And questions pop up.... Will I ever get home??? I might be lucky I made it here... How many did not....
It all started hours after polling stations were closed.... As soon as counting started....It's not clear who won.... Because the internet was shut down and lights gone..... Faint screams and chanting were heard miles away..Stray bullets and blasts.... The stiff air was filled with stench of loss, defeat, burnt tires smoke and death....
To where I was... My speech heavily tainted with a Polish accent I'm not African I'm I.... Tried speaking a few native languages but I was betrayed by my errudite state........
I hear they burnt everything in the lowside and came looking for us.... The middle and the well to do... It's a struggle I painted on a canvas and wrote my name on it.... I wish it will make it to the museum....
The hate We wrote on the internet.... Now was written on metallic pangas machetes and axes.....Our mistakes was having the wrong surname at the wrong period....No one knew when you would be dragged into the darkness and your screams... Be your Goodbye....Expensive homes and vehicles stood deserted in parking lots and affluent estates.... It was too late to say proudly Kenyan.... Local radios repeatedly and continuously played the national anthem...
Aids come from even the poorest of countries... We had lost all glory.... For the first time again we were all united by griefe... Completely forgetting about our last names... In this diverse conditioned camps.... No clothes to change....
I pointed south and said to my little one.... Doors shall open.... But it's too late.... Corpses lie haphazardly and awkwardly on the streets....Car alarms called until the batteries dies off.... Malls, supermarkets and shops were looted and doors flange open.... Misty winds blew... Broken glasses and shuttered Windows.... All major roads blocked with stones and tyres....
Press statement from the government and opposition.... And I woke up... My plane just touched down in Austria...
©Heart_surgeon2017
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