Children of THE STORM

Chapter One

A Thief?

"Thief, thief!......Thief! Stop him; the boy in the red shirt and green cap!" The sweet old lady's voice tried to sound the alarm for caution and battle in the heart of the market, one busy Monday morning.

"Where is that thief!" Another voice rejoined.

"There he is.....over there!" Said another Pointing to Araba.

A million voices began to join the troop of angry birds and every soul at the market joined the battle running and singing in chorus; "thief...thief.....thief, stop him...thief!"

Indeed, their ballad wasn't taught in any school or anywhere, yet everyone knows how to sing very well.

Ahmiduh, a vulcanizer, Picked two tires and a match in both hands, and his apprentice Musa, also grabbed a gallon half-filled with petrol in one hand and a rim so heavy he could not take it alone, except that day.

The traders run helter-skelter to the right side of the street. Suddenly, the red shirt and green cap began to run from the noisy environment. She knew the Kejetia Central Market very well, but this time, she was confused and had turned into a stranger, all at once; she was just lost in her head.

She found no refuge, stuck in stagnant water below a retaining wall serving as embankments to the adjacent existing road, three times her height. All hopes were lost, no dad or mum to call, no siblings, no friends to turn to, nowhere to hide, and no one to plead on her behalf.

This time, she was exposed. She had witnessed, the death of a colleague last Saturday, caught up in the acts of a pickpocket, a week ago, beaten, stoned, and burned to death at a youthful age: terribly and ugly. She was waiting patiently and calmly for her death with her head bent and eyes firmly closed.