Kichwamba

He was just a small man. A small man with the heart of a warrior and the spirit of a champion. He wasn’t as heavily built as Moses Gollola. He was more or less the same physical stature as Mugish Muntu. He lived in this little village in Fort portal called Harubaho. He was an ordinary boy living the life of an average village boy but the call to greatness came to him early in life. His father was just another ordinary village man who tilled the land and earned an extra buck from vending milk out of his five long horned cattle. His mother was the loyal house wife who had begotten six children to this world, Mujuni Ronald Atwooki being the youngest. But just like David from the Bible, Ronald Atwooki was the most industrious of all the six kids and sadly, he was also the most despised. He spent all his long days during holidays farming and grazing his father’s cattle and goats beyond the monstrous rock in a place called Haibaale. On this unforgettable day when the school term started, Ronald Atwooki loaded his little belongings onto his father’s bicycle- an old Road master that had been in the family since he was born. With his brother-Steven Apuuli, they took turns at riding whilst braving the fierce hills and slopes that delineate Tooro’s pristine landscape. It took them close to three hours to reach Kichawmba Polytechnic college snugly located on the foothills of the ranges that rolled and merged to sketch out as part of the insuperable fortress that Sir Gerald Portal called the Mountains of the moon. The ranges hovered high and above Fort portal town like a might sentry. Sometimes on a good moon lit night when the white misty clouds cleared, Ronald Atwooki could see the snow capped peaks of the mountains of the moon from Harubaaho. It’s said that Fort portal is the most beautiful and naturally endowed town in East Africa. From the mighty towering ranges that bordered the town from the north to the beautiful meandering river Mpanga and the beautiful rolling hills to the impeccable, gentle and peaceful people of Tooro with a legacy swathed in a rich history and special culture that dated hundreds of years ago. Ronald Atwooki, bade his brother good bye and carried his metallic case into the dormitory that had turned into his second home for the last 16 months. It was a buzzy day and evening came quick. Several students reported back to school and soon studies started normally.
On this one fateful night, the boys in his dormitory had gone to bed early. The light switch to the dormitory’s only light bulb was located near Ronald Atwooki’s bed so without formal induction, it had become his role to switch off the light every night and every morning. Before he went to bed, he knelt down beside his bed and said a prayer. He prayed for his mother and father, friends and family and lastly asked God to bless him throughout his endeavors. He reminded God of his dream. He wanted to become an Electrical engineer with the Local government in Kabarole district. By the time he said Amen, he was already in the hands of Morpheus. Suddenly, he Ronald Atwooki was wakened out of his sleep by wild screams of petrified students and the sound of gun shots that tore through the cold, dark night like a bolt of thunder. He fumbled with the light switch before a bullet hit the glass window and ricocheted a few inches above his head. Instinct forced him to slump prostrate on the floor. A thousand pieces of the shattered glass lay sprayed on the ground where he lay. Ronald Atwooki crawled towards his friend’s bed and was horrified by what he found. A bullet had perforated through Mujuni Wilson’s head leaving his skull shattered, blood and brains spluttered over his bed and sheets. While Gun shots unremittingly rained over the campus, Mujuni had found his purpose in this chaos. He was helping the wounded and scared students out of harm’s way and moving them to the Dormitory’s captain’s cubicle. He had crawled back and forth about a dozen times and his entire body was bleeding from cuts when he heard a man scream from the entrance of the dormitory “set this rat hole on fire” These words were spoken in Swahili with a thick Congolese accent. As he played dead of the floor, he saw a boy who wasn’t any less younger than him toss a jerry can of petrol over a bed and lit it. The fire grew as instaneously as the match made contact with the fuel and the boy who had lit the fire smiled to himself and released a barrage of rounds into the growing fire. Ronald Atwooki crawled back to cubicle and hastily started to guide the boys out of the burning building. Three he counted and retuned into the fierce flames to retrieve the other two. Towards the exit, the wooden trusses had started to collapse. The last boy-Alex Twesige a freshman was trapped. Ronald Atwooki couldn’t save him. He tried hard, risking his own life in the process. Half of the roof had already collapsed and in less than a minute the rest of the roof was caving in. Ronald Atwooki made this effort….the roof came down. He was jerked back by powerful hands, tossing him about half a meter in space. He landed with his face on a hot piece of burning mattress. He had been saved by Joshua Masereka who hadn’t himself been lucky enough. They heard Masereka’s cry just as the walls collapsed, closing him in a furnace. The three boys under Ronald Atwooki’s instruction started running. Running towards the hills. A few yards towards the kitchen block, bullets were fired in succession. It was a double tap. Ronald Atwooki stumbled and fell down. “Keep going”, he screamed to the boys. “Head for the hills” he cried. Two more bullets were fired and he saw the two boys falling, headlong into the green grasses. Ronald Atwooki turned around and took one last look at the campus and what he saw wrenched his heart. Fire, blood and fear. Pain, death and life hanged in a balance….He said a prayer….And he knew he wasn’t going to die today. The ADF rebels had won. He was going to be a captive and this was just the beginning…..