Not Until
You know who murdered you. I will not bury you, not until all of them are brought to justice.
My friend told me about an interesting incident that occurred in a village in his country.
A young boy was murdered, and his killers were known to everyone. Because the perpetrators were politically affiliated, it was widely assumed that the death would go unpunished. The boy's father, a poor old man, went to view the body. He told his dead boy, "You know who murdered you. I will not bury you, not until all of them are brought to justice." And with that, he walked out of the morgue and went home.
The local police station that was used to cover up the incident was the first to experience the wrath of the dead. The police officers directly involved dropped dead for no reason. They brought another contingent of officers because the others who saw their colleagues die did not want to be involved. I guess they figured since the newbies were not from the area, they would not be easily spooked.
When the new officers reported to their new post, they visited the old man at his home. One of the new young officers decided to approach the old man with respect. He apologised for his colleagues’ behaviour and then appealed to the old man to bury his son. His answer was brief, “Until my son’s killers are brought to justice, I will not bury him. I have no problem with you.”
The other officers were enraged by what they felt was disrespect for their office. They beat up the old man (When did Africans decide it was OK to beat up the elderly in the name of the ‘law’) and informed him that they would remove the body from the fridge in the morgue to rot. After beating the old man, they left. Less than 200m from the home, their car collided with a tree. The occupants all died instantly except for the respectful young officer. He walked out of the wreckage unscathed.
The news of the strange happenings found its way to whoever was responsible for the death and his political family. The father of the murderer was enraged. He accused his subordinates of believing in African witchcraft mumbo jumbo.
He ordered some officers to remove the body from the freezer in the morgue so that it would rot. Maybe then, the old man would bury his son. For someone who did not believe in the mumbo jumbo, why didn't he just move on with his life?
Anyway, the officers did as instructed. When they removed it, the corpse started bleeding like a fresh body! Some officers fled the scene. The morgue attendant refused to attend to the bleeding corpse. He said that he had worked in that morgue for many years, and although he had witnessed many things, he had never witnessed a one-year-old bleeding corpse!
The murderer's father was advised to make peace with the old man, being a politician in Africa, of course, he thought he could buy anything, including absolution.
He took three hundred heads of cattle to the old man, who acknowledged the gesture but maintained that he would only bury his son after the murderer was brought to justice.
Because no one can sit on a throne forever, the politician's son was eventually arrested, found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment, two or more years after killing the poor old man’s son.
The old man upon receiving the news went to the morgue to talk to his son. He said to him, “You have brought everyone involved in your death to justice, you can now rest.”
He then buried his son.
Last weekend, I was doing one of my favourite things. Talking to a friend about this and that while listening to Rumba. At some point, we discussed war in Africa in the precolonial times. Yes, there was war, but the intention of war was never to annihilate. There were rules, for example, it was widely believed that attacking in the night was an act of cowardice. Warriors fought until 5 pm then went home for the night and would resume at a set time. Only foreigners to the continent had the intention to wipe out the masses. Hence the introduction of religious scripture and weapons of mass destruction. They encouraged turning the other cheek, but you could also have holy wars, you know, for god.
Africans were in tune with nature. Nature, before we intervened, only wanted to eliminate the weakest. The lion will kill the slowest in the herd and in wars of old, only the inept soldier died on the battlefield. The lion never wants to kill the whole herd, so they may refrigerate what they don't need. It kills the weakest, leaving the strong to multiply. The lion too must up his game to be able to eat tomorrow. Nature roots for all the hunted and the hunter to be stronger and better. Fair like a mother, mother nature.
Enter man, African. We now have Western weapons and religious scriptures. We are using weapons used to conquer us better than the foreigners. Today they describe the continent as war-torn. Today we go against nature, the strongest amongst us, our children will not survive infancy, the strongest amongst us will be tear-gassed while in school, and the strongest amongst us will know the pain of gunshot wounds before they experience the pain of removing milk teeth. We have no respect for children, our strength. All over the continent, children suffer the most, while a few hold weapons of mass destruction - corruption, incompetence, and religion.
It is time the weak refused to bury the strongest. The weak have refused to bury.
Talk, proclaim, protest. Not until …
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