I alighted from the heli amid breeziness that seemed eternity. As I walked down the rusty paths of El-Daein, through the barricaded walls of the gallopy ways leading to the base camp, I was choked of a stench oozing from before me. It smelled like a burning flesh. I presumed it was nothing. Yes it was nothing, actually nothing unseen before in the neighbourhood. It has been a regular reccurrence for most of the inhabitants of the small and desolate town. It was indeed human flesh set ablaze by a gang of Ma'alias who had raided the town, raped the old and young women and carted away scores of cows, donkeys and cattle. Vultures were even wickedly denied of a feast. A shame for humanity!As I drove past them, I saw in their eyes the demand for answers why it should happen again. Their robes were soaked in pools of water created of their eyes. Yet they were not bothered. At least, a relief from the scorching heat of the sun was possible. I could see some drinking of the water produced by the anguish and suffering of a people. A people so neglected that they doubt they are worthy humans. Worthy to survive, worthy of life.The story was unfolding, I thought. I believed I had had enough of the horror sights. I needed a change of sight, at least something soothing. I was wrong. The next kid running naked across
the street towards the road was skinny to the ribs. He looked unfed for most of his days alive. He was not bothered, at least I thought. But he was obviously in need of help to survive. He is a victim of a circumstance he knows nothing about. A deliberate attempt at decimation of a people. A people who by nature are endowered with inalienable rights among which are rights to Life, Liberty and pursuit of Happiness. Its is arguably a grand design at the depopulation of a race. A people in black skin amongst a committee of white, yes, white skin African-Arabians in undefined occupation.I arrived the base camp shortly after 1730hrs. Just on time enough to avert a seizure of my person by the GoS Forces. The rule is that I or any other living person in the area must not be seen travelling after 1800hrs. This is for a reason they say is security. If I dared violate the supreme rule, hell will be let loose. My status as a peacekeeper not minded. My welcome is on condition - I must not meddle in the internal politics designed to cut down the demography of the people. The presence of the INGOs did not help much and the numbers were on the rise. But the resources were scarce. A mess!It all went well until a day after my arrival. I had a task! To visit the IDP camps and assure them we were always there to protect them from dangers. Though in reality, we hardly could guarantee our immediate protection. We could not move without robust escort armed to the teeth, we could not walk in singular choice nor could we visit areas without the consent of the local supreme authority. But we had to sell the belief to them. We believed it could help calm them emotionally and psychologically. At times it did, but most times not. The wounds of the past, the present and the future are still hurting!They knew our limitations. They feared for us also. They felt pity for us. But they envied us. We were the only ones who could afford 3 square meals daily, bath at will and drive on cars. The majority of the populace had never ridden on a car. Only the rich could afford transportation by a donkey-driven cart. Only the very rich could afford the luxury of bathing once a week. Only the rich could eat once every day. My story was that of a rich man caged in oblivion.It has become our destiny, one of the locals managed in a poorly constructed grammar. I was awed to hear that. It was the first time in a week I had heard someone not like me speak in English. It was amazing but reassuring. I was thinking - if it was possible to find someone who could muster enough words to make a meaningful sentence in English, in a land so forsaken that corpses litter the streets without attention, then there is hope to find a lasting solution to the depravity the people face.A hope borne out of the belief that Africa is a contingent most deserving of serenity. A continent so deserving because of the catalogue of brains, expertise and minds which abound. A continent where hospitality is a core value. A place where brotherliness is enshrined in our psyche to care and love one another as we do ourselves. A continent where children of diverse socio-politico cum economical background gather at the fall of the sun to sing a fire song. A continent where the old, yound and well fall out of their homes to the village square to relish "Tales by Moonlight". A hope borne of our common history.As I write, children still die of starvation (though a common sight) without attention, fathers not assured of the security of their lives, mothers wary of the streets because they may be raped and the domestic animals all caught up in the quagmire. A state of want where the moon rises at dawn.I ask; how did we get here? How can we move out of this mess? What else can we do to save the people destined to perish? I refuse to roll out tears but my heart is heavy.
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