It was the year 1994, when my father was killed. He warned us to never start fights but to always finish them and that's what I tried to do until they showed. It was the enemies of the British. They started the fight but yet they also finished it. My brothers were dragged away deprived of their freedom while they all laughed. They screamed that we were foolish and that God would not bless our souls again for ever being murderers. Later, while the sun was setting and many years had passed where the war was over I walked home thinking that I was free of the fear they caused. When I had entered my house there he stood. Covered in Blood. My own brother came to set fear back into my heart and to deprive me of my sins for ever letting him go.