The Wanderer: Part 16 of 73

The Wanderer by Callie Roos, motivational speaker and author

Part 16 of 73

The goat is foraging for grass in the cracks between the cement paving stones. Oshikango, August 1975. The silence is oppressive. Earlier on, one of them warned us not to interfere if the parties started firing on one another. Further north the MPLA and UNITA troops are already engaged in active combat. The place is forsaken. Everything has been completely destroyed - even the birds are gone. Now and again a bemused Roller strays into the area.

The locals are hunting with a pack of emaciated hunting dogs and sticks. I imagine it might be fun to let my Boerbul dog loose amongst that lot. Suddenly the first shots ring out. They are not aimed in our direction. Incredibly, they are shooting at one another. It is already getting dark quickly now. Luckily the rest of the platoon and the armoured troop are on the way. "Aren't these guys on our side of the fence?" someone shouts. "Fire an illumination mortar!" I shout. As the mortar deploys along the cutline all hell breaks loose. A machine gun chatters near the gate further up and to the right. Near me someone is hit in the eye by a piece of shrapnel. I realize they have been waiting for us to interfere. The armoured troop is just in time. Minutes later we have crossed the fence. Like a dream come true. At last we are over the fence! I grab the MPLA leader's knife and webbing. His body is lying in the road, already growing cold.

A woman runs past us. Fleet footed she disappears into the night behind us! About two kilometres further on we stop, adrenaline pumping furiously. Sweat is pouring off me. The webbing and the knife chafe against my skin where I stuffed it into the front of my shirt. The night is long and I can't really sleep. 'Do you think they were waiting for us?' someone asks. "I don't know," I mumble back. It is only much later, probably in the early morning that I fall into an uneasy sleep.

"We have started a war," the cries reverberate. "We have started a war!" I shout. Louder and louder my cries echo through the starless night. "Wake up, wake up!" vaguely I recognize Xaba's voice. "You are having a nightmare," he whispers. "What are you yelling like that for?" "I started a war, Xaba. One hell of a war!" "Sleep, we will talk about it tomorrow," he grumbles.

At least I have something. I was nineteen years old.

The Wanderer: Part 16 of 73

By: Callie Roos

POST COMMENT

simulated neon sign The Secret of Deliberate Creation Wind Power Basics The Wanderer: Part 17 of 73 A Brief Introduction Into The World Of Conversion Analytics Chill Your Favorite Beverage With Whiskey Stones Types of Tracking Are You Tired Of Looking At Wining Bingo Players? Horn-rimmed Glasses Can Bring Wearers Back To Yesterday Once More The Wanderer: Part 18 of 73 Five (5) Things You May Not Know About Salvador States Dehouche Spending time in Winchester The Wanderer: Part 19 of 73