Moses Isegawa: Snakepit

He hit the road to the north; he missed his Avenger, whose whereabouts he did not know. This would have been the time to fly and make up for lost time. He pushed to Soroti, Lira, Gulu, Arua, hundreds of kilometres of devilish distress. Major disaster awaited him. His family was not there; neither were his fifty friends. It occurred to him that his wife and children had long been dead. The friends too. He got on the move. He spent the nights in the wild with three of his men, lying under the stars, winds sweeping over him. He could hear his wife’s voice labouring through her damaged throat, asking him to. . Reptile’s revenge, he said to himself. Ashes, that vile reptile; only Ashes could plan something this diabolical. Reptile. . He was always grateful for the break of day. It meant movement, the endless search for the ghosts of his family. Maybe they had lost their way and were wandering towards him on foot, emaciated, desperate. His right leg swelled from the pressure of activity and lack of proper medical attention. Tetanus bit into the wound; the rot started spreading upwards. When he heard the verdict, he did not wait. He put the barrel of a shotgun in his mouth and the explosion tore off the back of his head. Ashes, that reptile. .

BAT LISTENED TO THE GUNS, the small ones answering the big ones. They seemed to expel soldiers and hangers-on by hydraulic action. There was wild shooting and looting as fleeing soldiers looked for money, civilian clothes, food, and medicines to sustain them on the long way north. Unlucky civilians were shot in revenge, frustration, desperation. He stayed inside his house, barricaded behind the steel gate. He made calls to his friends, and they called him to make sure that he was all right. There was a crescendo in the shooting and then the noise gradually died down.

The vacuum of power lasted a whole week. A new regime announced itself. There was relief, expectation, celebration. His brother paid him a visit one morning. He came with his two surviving friends. To thank him. He was very happy to see his brother, although he wondered how their relationship would be from now on. His sister also came. With a child, born during the last weeks of fighting. He got a phone call a few days later. He was offered his old job back by the new regime of former exiles. He knew some of them. He had been to university with a number of them. Professors, doctors, lawyers in army fatigues. He did not tell them that he knew how to fire guns. He accepted the offer. He was ready to relaunch his life.

He got into his car and surveyed the city, glad to see the high blue sky above on this clear windy day, and the people going about their business, picking up the pieces. A veritable sense of victory overcame him and he banged the wheel a few times. The Marshal, General Bazooka, the Zanzibari astrologers, had gone. The Libyans and Saudis had departed months before, their unfinished projects left gawking. He enjoyed watching massive statues of Amin being unceremoniously pulled down with ropes tied to lorries, and hacked to pieces. He drove to Kasubi. He had to see General Bazooka’s house and make sure that he was gone. There were people walking about in the debris, commenting on the shit-smeared walls, cursing and laughing. He seemed to be the lone victor left after a vicious fight. He got back into his car and coasted down the hill, headed for his office opposite the Parliament Building.

During the last few weeks he had been plagued by dreams. The Babit trinity had appeared a few times. He had also had recurrent visits from Mrs. Kalanda.

Moses Isegawa

Snakepit

Moses Isegawa was born in Uganda and worked as a history teacher before leaving for the Netherlands in 1990. He is the author of Abyssinian Chronicles . He lives in Amsterdam.