THE SCEPTICAL BOND

PROLOGUE

The LRA war was at its peak. Death and property destruction was the order of the day. Human skulls and bones littered the home steads such that the children often played with them like they were normal toys.

Many families fought hard for survival. The family heads had only one dream at the back of their minds- to push their families through the harsh heat of the war to safety.

Mr Okello Sarafino was one of the family heads that had small families. He had born two children with his wife Maria With a third safely curdled in the comfort of the womb. Dickens was his older son followed by Lorna.

The sun was hiding its rays behind a thick blanket of cloud making the sky orange. The family settled to the only meal they could afford to eat in a day. Maria had laid a worn out blanket on the ground seating herself with the children outside their only hut. Sarafino sat on a wooden folding chair protectively looking down on them. Earlier on news had reached the village that the rebels marched their way. They all ate silently and quickly, each one hardly looking at the other. Maria's voice was the lone voice that instructed the children to eat fast, least they run for safety in an empty stomach.

She packed the beddings at a pace she hated. She had always been a fast worker. She cursed the day she got pregnant. She should have known better that it was hard to manoeuvre through a war with a stomach as heavy as hers. But what could she have done? Contraceptives were never heard of in those days. Society strongly condemned the use of condoms for it was said it was for the prostitutes prone to HIV, locally known as silim.

She fidgeted with a bundle of blankets she had tired up with sisal ropes. Her mouth was agape. She could tell that the children had only eaten half way through their food. A picky eater as she was, Lorna had barely touched her food yet Sarafino held both their hands leading them farther away from the hut. She chuckled to herself. Her husband looked like a towering monster over the children. He was extremely tall. She understood why the children had not eaten at all. Sprays of gun fire spread out in the village. The sound was deafening. She dropped the blankets, tightly shutting her ears with fingers she had pushed in both. In a split second she had jumped over the blanket panting uncontrollably near her family. She let out a heavy sigh, " please help me pick the blankets, won't you?"

The hut shielded him from the gun fire as he stealthily crossed the small space to reach the front of the house. A piercing pain shot through his shoulder on picking the blankets. His eyes felt hazy. He could barely see. But he was able to identify the rebel who had shot him. He was a child soldier. He had been abducted from the village a year ago. Now he was fighting his own people. Probably they had sent him back to hunt down survivors, he thought, ignoring the sharp pain that made his arm limp. He carried the blankets. He heaved a sigh, wondering how he was to carry both Lorna and the blankets. His wife's due time was to come in any of the days ahead. Normally she carried them, but she was too heavy for any of that work today.

War always trained it's children to be brave enough to fear death. Lorna whimpered silently to the sight of this thick red flowing out of her father's shoulders. He had chosen to bundle her to his back while his six year old handled the blankets. She was only two years old and there was no way she could run on her own.

He led them through an overgrown path that would lead them to the hidden shelters of a swamp's vegetative area they normally shared with serpents of every kind.

The more they ran the more distant the gun shots became. Maria would run a few meters before stopping to catch a breath for a few minutes. She felt sharp contractions with every stop she made. Sarafino scanned the surroundings. He knew that they could not make it to the swamp due to his wife's health.

He pulled the children aside standing by the road side. Deep crevices of concern formed on his forehead, " how do you feel?" He asked.

She winced as another contraction tore through her womanhood. She tightly held her lower belly, almost dropping to the ground.  She almost screamed. The pain was unbearable but she was an acholi woman. Tradition forebade her from screaming during labour. She gritted her teeth, swallowing in the pain.