of disbelief there was always an unspoken undercurrent of superstition that said, ‘What if the legends are true?’
10 Years Ago
As the most successful businessman and largest landowner in the province, the local populace looked up to Chand Zibu. And as the economic situation continued to deteriorate, he had quite naturally become the leader of a group of like minded farmers and businessmen who banded together in an attempt to find a way to remedy the crisis.
They all knew that the country’s current administration was totally corrupt and had to be removed, and Chand Zibu’s friends had decided that they would form an opposition party to take on President Joseph Lattua and his corrupt governors.
The secret meetings had been taking place for some time with support for their opposition party growing daily. Soon they would be strong enough to emerge from hiding and be able to force the government to hold democratic elections.
Their current meeting had gone on well into the night and now Chand Zibu slept peacefully beside his wife in the family’s country compound. Many of his co-conspirators had chosen to take up Zibu’s offer of a bed for the night rather than risk damaging their vehicles by driving them over the pot-holed excuse for a highway that passed by the farm.
***
Even while the meeting was taking place shadowy figures had surrounded the farm and settled down to wait.
An hour before dawn, the message to proceed was received and the shadows detached themselves from their hiding places and crept toward the compound.
Suspecting nothing, the farm’s occupants were rudely awakened by the front doors being smashed down and camouflage painted soldiers swarming inside. The few weapons that Zibu possessed were for protection against wild animals and no match for the automatic rifles of the invaders, even if he could have reached them in time.
Quickly and efficiently the occupants of the compound were rounded up in their semi-dressed state, and herded into the forecourt in front of the main house. Here, the women and children were separated from the rest and taken back inside the house where they were placed under armed guard.
Outside, the men were divided into two groups, one consisted of the farm’s workers and the second made up of Zibu and his co-conspirators.
Chand Zibu and his friends found themselves being handcuffed and forced against the compound’s outer wall. The handcuffs were then tied above the unfortunate men’s heads to the top of the wall which forced them to stand stretched upright, facing their attackers.
Finally, one of the soldiers came forward and pronounced solemnly, ‘You are all under arrest for treason.’
‘You can’t do this!’ exclaimed Chand Zibu. ‘I demand to speak to your superior!’
The soldier grinned broadly and moved closer to Zibu, ‘As you can see Mr Zibu, I am my superior.’
Beneath the camouflage paint Chand Zibu now recognised General Thomas Lattua, the President’s brother.
‘You can’t do this,’ insisted Zibu.
‘Of course I can. In your absence you have all been tried with the grievous act of treason.’ He turned so that he was now addressing all the men present. ‘Of course you realise that there is only one penalty for the crime of treason.’ He moved away from the group while calling orders to his men.
As he was doing so, a vehicle pulled into the compound and President Lattua himself climbed out. ‘Come to watch the fun?’ Thomas Lattua called to his brother.
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ smiled the President, as his brother formed his men into a line facing the prisoners.
The conspirators called out to the soldiers and the President, protesting their innocence and begging for mercy, but their desperate voices fell on deaf ears.
Realising his fate was sealed, Chand Zibu steeled himself for what was to come. He stood quietly and hoped the executioners did not detect the quiver of fear that gripped him.
An order was called out and the soldiers raised their weapons. As he looked down the barrel of the weapons Chand Zibu imagined that he could hear the beautiful voice of Mawu the moon-goddess singing the song of lament to her lost lover. The song inside his head reached its crescendo just as General Lattua shouted the order, ‘Fire!’
Automatic rifles barked their deadly message and the screams of the men around Chand Zibu suddenly ended in an eerie silence.
On both sides of Zibu, the bodies of his friends and co-conspiritors hung lifeless against the wall, held upright with their arms still tied above their heads and the awful truth came that he was still alive. He was alive and untouched by the bullets among his dead friends. Moments later he saw that the Lattua brothers were laughing at his confusion, enjoying some private joke.
President Lattua stepped forward and took Chand Zibu by the chin. The two men exchanged looks of utter loathing for the other.
Lattua spoke softly, without the slightest hint of humanity in his voice, ‘Did you think that we would kill you Mr Zibu? Well we should have of course but that would simply have created a martyr and we don’t want martyrs inspiring other traitors, do we? No Mr Zibu, you are of far more value to us alive. For the rest of your days you will be a shining example of what happens to those who seek to overturn the rightful government of Namola.’
There was a laugh of delight from the President’s brother as Joseph Lattua continued, ‘We will use you to show how far the mighty can fall. Everything you have is now confiscated by the State. Everything is forfeit, every last coin, every last cow, every last blade of grass. It’s now all ours to do with as we wish.’
‘And we shall start with your family,’ laughed General Lattua, gesturing to his men. ‘Leave your weapons outside,’ he called to them, as the eager soldiers made their way toward where the women and children had been imprisoned, ‘We don’t want to risk one of them getting their hands on a gun while you’re entertaining them.’ The men laughed at their leader’s joke as they unslung their utility belts and propped their weapons against the wall of the house.
***
As the sun rose to its zenith, the horror of what was happening around him became imprinted indelibly upon Chand Zibu’s brain. The screams and groans of agony from the women inside the house left no doubt as to their fate, and tears of anguish and frustration coursed down Zibu’s cheeks as he struggled fruitlessly to free himself and go to the aid of his family, while around him the bodies of his co-conspirators were now covered with flies that had been attracted by the smell of blood from the corpse’s open wounds.
Now, not even the sound of Mawu’s lament could be heard over the wailing and occasional scream of blood-chilling finality.
Gradually the noise from within the house abated, as the soldiers drifted outside once again, adjusting their clothing as they emerged before collecting their weapons.
‘Finished sergeant?’ General Lattua called to one of his men.
‘All done. None left,’ nodded the man.
‘Excellent work brother,’ smiled President Lattua. ‘What about the farm?’
‘It could become a symbol of resistance as well. Best if it ceased to exist. My men will be able to use the livestock and any equipment but the rest should go.’
‘See to it. I have my yacht waiting for me in Lobacra, and there are some French whores in Monaco who need to be taught how to enjoy themselves.’
‘I’ll see you when you return then.’
***
By late afternoon Chand Zibu was alone. The bodies of his friends had been unshackled and thrown inside the house, which was now well ablaze.
Everything of value had been loaded into trucks and the farm’s livestock had been herded away by some of Zibu’s field workers at the point of the soldier’s guns.