though he was the smartest of the four buddies, he felt the most financially illiterate by choice. By choice because his dad had tried on a number of occasions to have deep discussions with him as the eldest about financial literacy but he was just too shallow and couldn’t be bothered to do the hard work of research and learning…who wants to do that as a teenager after all. Too young to be thinking of such things.
It was like starting kindergarten all over again. It made him feel like a financial retard. And the fear of borrowing large sums of money made his heart race.
“Good on you, mate for having a go,” he muttered. “You’re a better bloke them me, I’ll say.” He paused to calm his nerves and taking a deep breath sighed and added resignedly. “I haven’t had the guts to be practical even though my old man has been talking to me about investing in general.”
He then went into a tirade against his generation. “Our generation are real losers” he declared bitterly. “We spend like there is no tomorrow on rubbish. We borrow like we own the bloody oil fields! Yet in reality we are mortgaging the knowledge that our parents will bail us out if we get into financial trouble. Rubbish! Man! Rubbish! Our thinking and unrealistic lifestyle really, really sucks! If the world goes into a deep recession and our parent’s homes and investments lose a lot of value than so the called insurance we have from them will be down the toilet. Then what!?” He continued angrily.
“Somehow, I must become more independent financially given that with the aging population and people living longer my parents may end up spending all their investments and we will inherit their retirement home debts! I think too many of us young people haven’t got the foggiest idea of the financial Tsunami that is set to wipe out our false security by the time we are old and qualified enough to start raising a family. Man! Life sucks!” Sigh!
There was again that awkward moment of dead silence as the terrifying likely scenario Bob just spewed out hit them like a ton of filth. It was stultifying filth. It was like filth covering their fantasy future. Dave, particularly, was made very uncomfortable by this possibility. His mind quickly reflected on the current family’s overall wealth and he felt some comforting emotions wash over him. However, there was still this knot in his stomach because of the prospect of his parents either losing their wealth because of major recession or living forever until they have spent most of the money at a retirement village. Worst still, his mum has been planning to go on an extended global holiday for possibly a year to make up for their years of hard work and missing out while many of their friends have travelled numerous times overseas. She, in particular, wanted to see her native country, Argentina. Her sisters and mother had visited them twice already, but there are still countless relatives who have been pleading for them to visit the motherland before they died.
Ricky’s mother arrived to pick them and drop them home. As they walked to the car each person was lost in their thoughts as the massive dose of reality Tsunami-ed them.Not much conversation was to be had on the way home either, much to Ricky’s mother, Mary’s, surprise.
“You guys are quiet today. Something wrong with the pizza? Or did the coach work you all too hard? Wusses!” she teased smiling.
“Naaah” replied Ricky, forlornly.
Before Ricky could explain, Dave couldn’t resist the temptation to inflict revenge on Jonno for his plans. He wanted Ricky’s mother to give Jonno an earful and convince him to give up. That would be such are relief for his own ego, he comforted himself.
“Jonno, is soon to become a property mogul. He is going to buy an investment property with his mum’s help towards the legal fees. What do you reckon, Mrs Fieldsworth?” Dave interrupted, enviously.
Forsaken
It was the first time Olum had been to see Dr Jakobo Olok. He was a physician, not a psychiatrist. He tried to explain the difference to him and his dad, Ociti, but it was difficult for them to understand. A doctor is a doctor, he can fix everything otherwise, if not, then you are dead for sure or in his case, he thinks he would eventually go mad.
It is these troubling dreams of his mother reaching out to him lovingly and of his two sisters playing games in the compound with him. This sense of guilt and torment at what had happened four years ago. He had carried them in the bush and it drove him sometimes to want to kill everyone. At other times, he wished he could also be killed if that could release him of this endless pain and a sense of helplessness that those tragic events could never be reversed.
Dr Jakobo Olok, pointed to the equipment attached to a microphone and said,
“So, young man, tell me your story from the time you started school and what happened. I will be recording them on this cassette player. This will help me listen and study to find out how best to help you get rid of those troubling dreams.”
Olum looked at his dad, took a deep breath, and turning to the microphone began,
“When I started going to school, it was the best time for me. It was a lot of fun with so many children of my age. We studied and played until about 4 pm and then we walked home, singing or playing all the way home. Whenever I arrived home, mum would always greet me with fruit such as bananas, mangoes, pineapples and pawpaw or roasted peanuts and cool water, after the long two kilometres walk from School.
One day, dad took me on a trip to Gulu to see the big town. Mum packed food for me and dad for the long trip. I was so excited because I had only ever been to Gulu once before, but I was only three years old and could not remember anything about it except that it was very noisy and there were lots of people which scared me a lot. It was a long trip from our village outside, Kitgum, which was a very small town. It was a wonderful day for me, even though dad was very nervous because there was some kind of fighting going on throughout the country he said. We went in the back of a pick-up truck that we hitched a ride on. It was far cheaper than paying a, matatu, taxi. We met NRM (National Resistance Army) soldiers along the way and had to stop at many roadblocks and have dad’s ID-card checked. He had to keep repeating the same story over and over until even I knew the lines by the time we got to Gulu late that afternoon. We spent the night there while dad completed his errand.” Olum paused again, and stared blankly for a moment, and then his face became distorted as the painful memories of what he was about to share flooded back. Olum clenched his teeth to hold back the tears and swallowed hard what seemed like a painful lump in his throat.
“The journey back was the same as the previous one and I started to get scared at the threatening nature of the soldiers along the way. I couldn’t wait to get home and be with mum and my sisters again,” Olum stopped as his face contorted again as he fought hard to keep back from bursting into tears. He swallowed hard at another painful lump in his throat. Ociti, put his hand on Olum’s shoulder briefly without saying a word. Drawing strength from that re-assurance, Olum continued with a slight quiver of a voice, and trembling lips.
“When we got close to the village we could see smoke where our huts stood. Our hearts sank as we got closer. We arrived at home to find mum lying on the ground, having been savagely beatenand all our chickens, goats and food were gone. Mum was weeping for my sisters, saying they were dead. The NRA had raped them, stabbed them with their big knives before setting them on fire inthe hut to burn alive. Mum said my sisters had fought hard against the soldiers that is why they were stabbed and then burnt. Mum had also fought with the soldiers to save the children’s lives, but was beaten with the butt of guns and kicked in the stomach and left there where we found her.” Olum could now only speak softly, in between freely flowing tears, sniffing and hard swallowing. He stopped for a moment, staring at the floor. Ociti reached out again, and place his hand gently on Olum’s shoulder without saying a word, as tears rolled down his own cheeks that he wiped them away with the other hand. Olum being comforted and taking a deep breath, and speaking with a quivering voice and lips he continued,
“We cried all the time for a week and wanted to die. I had nightmares for two weeks and was scared of going near the forest. I clung to dad wherever he went, there was no school anyway, because the NRA had destroyed them,