Jan 05 2009
The Worst Brutality
The Worst Brutality
That day, as night fell, Chenjerai whispered in every hut , “Come out, come out, let us head to the mountains.” Stealthily, many disappeared into the dark night, pricked by thorns, falling into gullies, and rising again as their soaked bodies heaved, running away for their lives. Who dared stay to die or see death, none? But the following morning, at the edge of the mountain, lay the charred human remains of those who did not flee. “They poured petrol, the filthy devils,” remarked an old man with bitterness. “But where is this devil?” questioned another old man, his eyes flowing with tears. They were staring at the worst brutality ever seen in the village, black, ebony, twisted limbs. To this day the brutality haunts the souls of the young and old.
