By Mugabe Victor
Love; love is only a word until one sees her face. And fate, fate is only word; or so I thought
My father is a god. The almighty, master of the skies; Gulu. Word is he can spring storms from his breathe, thunder from a mere blink and reign death in a whisper. The only unfortunate part about it all is that its only word. The man I know is a liar, a fool; and a father.
It was always silent at home but never as silent as this. Today was different, I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was because for once the children of Gulu were all in one room. And yet not even the torments of time were able to change some factors in the moment.
Unshifting in nature was father. As usual he was a king, bold and stern in all his commands, rigid in his ways. Seeing him now, you would never believe that his hair used to be pitch black, his stare cold as death, and his voice soft and commanding. He always said the battle of the mind is the best one to conquer before any other. From childhood, I always thought this was his greatest strength.
Every breathe, every motion, even a blink, was a character held by at least one of his children.Walumbe’s eyes, cold and cunning, Nambi’s voice, the anchor of comfort and rest for the most of us. Whereas for me, let’s just say I took the looks.
It was at moments like these that I couldn’t help but stare at my siblings; all lined up at the foot of the throne, beaten down and miserable. Sad as it sounds, they did this to themselves. Hand to hand combat between ourselves was always something father condemned as vulgar. He always preferred to watch us attack imaginary foes then scold on and on about how poor our forms were. Then it happened, and as the saying goes, fortune always found the fine hearted. I was finally relieved of that mockery of training and was assigned to the position of teacher.
With the brief results of what I was witnessing, I must have to admit that I’ve dedicated too much of my attention on one student. And yes, much as it looked ridiculous, Nambi had beat the shit out Walumbe. Up until now the blood from his nose was still dripping, loose as a faucet.
Some may say that I am a bad big brother. But I really, I had to see how that little spout of rage would play out. Not even Walumbe saw this coming. The shock could still be seen through his swollen up eye every time he stole a glance at her. In a way, I felt proud; at least all the training I gave her was not going to waste. All she did during our sessions was goof around. Mocking me at all my turns.
The only curiosity that stayed erect in all this was the same question am sure reigned through Walumbe’s mind, “Why?”