Faded Flowers

By Timothy Etoori

This is a journey through the turbulent history of Uganda: a walk through military coups, rebel insurgency and social violence.

Through a narration of the lives of two men the story unfolds:

In the first instance it is the story of Robert, who struggles to come to terms with bereavement and poverty. Yet the road of pain, that is his primary experience in life, leads him to a life of fulfillment as a minister in the church.

it is also the story of John Ogwang a school dropout who joins the army. He is posted to the military intelligence, where he learns the techniques of manipulation. After the government is overthrown he flees to serve in the brutal rebel army. Later, he takes advantage of an amnesty offered and surrenders to the government. He sets up an operation of organized crime, with a used car dealership as a front. Using the proceeds he sets up the parlour of a normal life - a comfortable existence with the love of his life Sarah. But in his secret life, there is turmoil.

As the paths of the two men cross, John finally finds a sense of belonging and peace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504934879

Timothy Etoori

The author lives in Uganda and works as an Accountant. The other books written by the author are a novel entitled Faded Flowers and an anthology entitled Visions of Glory.

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2015 Timothy Etoori. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/22/2014

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3486-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3485-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3487-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Twenty.

Chapter Twenty One.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

1 Peter 1: 24, 25.

"All men are like grass,

and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;

the grass withers and the flowers fall,

but the word of the Lord stands forever."

FADED FLOWERS.

A hint of perfume,

A glimpse of lost bloom

Subdued fire

Like spent desire,

The hues tell the story

Of once brilliant crowning glory.

Dried shrivelled buds

Parchment of flowers,

The dry stalks cast shadows

From sunlight in the windows-

Dark streaks on the table

Tangled, ephemeral cables.

The cold breeze ripples

A shiver through the flesh,

The gust

Stirs the air,

And on the floor showers

The dark petals of faded flowers.

PROLOGUE

Early in the afternoon grey storm clouds began to gather over the capital. A strong wind whipped the whorls of grey overhead and bent the branches of the tall acacia trees along the avenues. Down below the darkening sky, people scuttled to and fro in frenzy. Cars speeded along the smooth city streets, their drivers ignoring traffic signs. Parents hurriedly picked their children from the schools. Everybody was trying to get home as quickly as possible.

In the evening, a stillness fell over the city; the streets were deserted and the shops shuttered. The heavy grey sky overhead brought forth no rain. The military men, their green uniforms splotched with yellow and brown, took over the city streets. The people peeped through chinks of the curtains in the windows. They saw the strange sight of these bold figures strutting around. They waited fearfully, and whispered to each other the rumours they had heard in town that day. None of them went out, not even to neighbours’ houses’.

That night they heard the sound of heavy engines, and the grinding sound as the caterpillar tracks of tanks tore at the tarmac. They peered into the darkness and saw the large shadows with muzzles pointing out before them.

Finally, they heard the announcement over the radio: the government had been overthrown by the military. The voice of the army commander hovered in the air. In halting English, punctuated by irregular pauses, he assured the people that this was a temporary measure. The army would soon hand over to a civilian government. I am not a politician, I am a professional soldier, he said.

CHAPTER ONE.

John awoke with a faint feeling of anxiety. He had this faint burning sensation in the pit of his stomach but it took him a moment to remember why. Then it came to him! The radio announcement had been broadcast the previous day; the O" level examination results were out. Reluctantly he sat up in bed, then slowly pulled back the covers and placed his feet on the floor. He sat there for a long time, with his back bent and his head resting in his hands.

Eventually he rose slowly to his feet, his tall frame slightly stooped and he walked slowly to the bathroom. Mentally he tried to reassure himself, and to summon a measure of his normal cocky attitude. As he put the toothpaste on the toothbrush, he looked into the mirror, bending slightly so that he could see his face. No surprises there; the same hooked nose and small eyes. After a cold shower he went back into his room. He put on a blue T-shirt with a collar and a pair of jeans. He hardly owned a real dress shirt, as he always liked to dress casually. Then he went to the dining room for breakfast.

His father was already seated at the head of the table. He was even taller then John, but whereas John was rather thin, his father was well built. He looked like the athlete that that he had been. He looked up from his plate as John entered the room, but said nothing. His dark skinned face and was expressionless. John greeted him; as was the custom it was always the younger person to greet the elder. His father grunted a reply.

I know some people at the Ministry of education, he said to John without warning. So I will go and get your results from there, then you can go to the school later on and get the result slip. By lunchtime I will have the results, so don’t go wandering about, like you normally do. When I come back I want to find you around. I always wonder where you go everyday, every single day! There are plenty of books for you to read here; perhaps these would improve your English and broaden your knowledge.

He gazed at John for a few moments, as if there was something on his mind. Anyway let us just hope that you have passed, he said finally without conviction.

John’s elder sister had walked in as he spoke the last sentence. That one! she sneered, I hear he used to spend all his time in the corner of the playground playing cards.

Why don’t you just shut up if you have nothing to say! John snapped.

She sat down at the table and turning her cup over from the saucer began to pour herself a cup of tea. She was slim and small, like her mother. Whenever he saw his mother and father together, John always wondered what had attracted them to each other. His sister was rather pretty, with small neat features. Maybe that’s why she was a conceited little miss know- it- all, he thought to himself.

His father rose from the table, Well, see you at lunch time, he said to John.

_ _ _ _ _

His father was unable to get the results from the ministry, as the relative he had known was no longer working with there. He had been promoted and transferred to a town upcountry. John had to go to the school himself in order to get his results.

He stood in the queue outside the headmaster’s office. One by one, the boys and girls entered the office and came out holding the fateful slip of paper. Most of them tried to keep their faces expressionless, and didn’t answer any of the questions from the students still waiting outside.

At last it was Johns turn. He went in and found the secretary sitting primly behind the desk. She wore glasses with metal rims. Her sleek hair was pulled back and fastened with a small band behind her head. Her sharp eyes stared from over her glasses which were perched on her nose. Her sleek hair and glistening light- brown smooth face made her look quite attractive.

"What is your name? she asked brusquely.

"John Ogwang,’ he replied hesitantly.

Speak up! she said. I don’t have all the time in the world. Wait a moment, let me check and find out whether you paid all the school fees"’ she added. She picked a list from her table and skimmed down it, following the names with one scarlet fingernail.

All right’ she said to herself finally. "What did you say your name was?

"John Ogwang,’ he replied.

She picked another set of papers from her desk and scanned it to find his examination number. Then she picked a folder and selected his result slip. Sign for it here , she ordered, pointing out his name on the list.

He found that his hands were shaking. His heart was beating. He left the office without opening the slip of paper. Outside in the playground under the bright sunlight, he opened the slip of paper. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the results; they were even worse than he had feared. He wondered what he was going to tell his father! How could he go back home and face his father with these results? For a moment he considered not returning home that evening, but he knew this would make his father even angrier. He walked to the town and wandered about, window-shopping. His mind was in turmoil and he could hardly focus on what was behind the glass windows. He kept on walking until it was evening and the shops began to close. The shop-keepers removed the items displayed in the windows and boarded up the windows.

_ _ _ _ _

In the evening when it was getting dark, he went home. His father was in the sitting room at one end of the sofa. He was reading a newspaper by the light of a lamp. The lamp had its own ornamental wooden stand and a shade over the bulb. His father was sitting in a circle of light next to the lamp. The rest of the room was dimly lit. He approached his father hesitantly and stood silently before him. After a while his father looked up, as if he had suddenly become aware of his presence. Uh? he said questioningly.

Here are the results, John said, handing him the piece of paper.

His father took the slip of paper and read it silently. He looked at it for a long time, as if trying to decipher its contents.

John looked at the cream coloured paper-like lampshade. Then he looked at the dark brown sofa set. He felt tired as he stood there uncomfortably. He looked down at the cream and brown pattern on the carpet.

Finally, his father put the slip of paper on the coffee table beside him. He placed it carefully on the side of the coffee table farthest from him, as if trying to get rid of it.

"Well, this is what I have always been saying. You cannot get good results without working for them! I don ‘t have any more time, or money to waste on you. You stupid boy! I have done my best, I have done my best! But I can’t read the books for you.

You! You have no sense of responsibility. You have made no attempt to work, you were never in class, and this is the result. You fool! Now what do you expect me to do? You stand before me, looking at me as if I have the answer. This is the end, don’t even think that I am going to look for a job for you. You are so stupid I don’t even think you can hold down a job. You find what to do for yourself, I am no longer concerned. I will look after your brother and sister; those who know how to work for their future."

_ _ _ _ _

John waited for his father to cool down. He was hoping that finally his father would consider his plight and come up with some suggestion. But weeks of waiting turned into months and a sense of hopelessness engulfed him. One evening he heard the voices of his parents raised in anger:

You have to help him! his mother pleaded.

I told you I have no time to waste on that fool! his father shouted.

That night at supper the mood was sombre; everybody ate in silence.

This bottle is empty, his father said. I feel like drinking some more cold water, his father said to his sister. She looked down at her plate.

There is no cold water, his mother said, finally We did not boil any water yesterday, we forgot.

You children are useless, his father said. Some of you are here the whole day, and you cannot even boil water!

Look at this brother of yours, his father said looking at his sister. He has never made any attempt to help himself. No sense of responsibility. He goes to school and spends his time playing.

I went to see Uncle Sam in the police barracks, John said with vehemence. He could feel that his face was hot with anger. He said I am old enough to join the police since I have already repeated senior four. But he told me their recruitment is irregular and I will have to wait. Then he told me that the army is recruiting at the moment, and he knows some people there.

His father looked at him for a moment; he appeared to be surprised. I don’t approve of a career in the armed forces for you, he said. What does that drunkard uncle of yours know? Do you know that he and his friends sleep in the mortuaries in the so-called police barracks? Is that the life you want for yourself? he sneered. You wait I’ll talk to some of my friends. I’ll get you a better job, he added after a pause, You don’t need to join the army. No son of mine should have to spend his life sleeping in the bush."

John stood up and left the table. He stalked off to his room and lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling. He drifted off to sleep without realising it.

In the morning he packed a clean T-shirt and a pair of jeans in a small plastic bag. He left the bag in his room and went to the dining room to have breakfast with the rest of the family. His mother smiled when she saw him. It is the first time in a long time that you have woken up early to have breakfast with us, she said.

His father sat silently and said nothing. He seemed to have forgotten what had happened the night before.

After breakfast he collected the bag from his room. He left the house by the back door and squeezed through a gap in the pine hedge. A path led through a neighbour’s garden onto the main road. He stopped a taxi going into the city. As he rode along he looked at all the people walking towards the city. Everybody seemed to be going somewhere except him. In half an hour he was at his uncles office at the Central Police Station.

His uncle was a short, heavyset, dark-skinned man with a round face and close-cropped hair. He never wore a uniform as he worked with the Criminal Investigations Department. Today he was wearing a blue striped jacket, with the collar of his white shirt open. He seemed irritated to see him. I thought I told you to come early in the morning, why don’t you do what you are told? You wait for me outside.

John sat on a wooden bench outside the office. After about half an hour his uncle came out. I have been trying to get through to your father on the telephone. I did not tell you, but I mentioned this matter to him a week ago and he didn’t seem to be in favour of the idea. In fact he said that we should first leave these matters for some time while he thinks what to do. I actually rang him yesterday but that phone of yours seems not to be working as it just rings and rings. These Uganda Telecommunications people are hopeless.

No, he has agreed now because I am just seated at home, John lied. If you want I can go to his office to get a chit from him. Even if you call him at the office he will tell you the same thing, John assured him. His uncle looked at him searchingly. John stared back at him.

That father of yours!, he exclaimed. It would have been better if you had actually got a written note from him. You are of age though and neither him nor me can stop you from doing what you want to. But if he has really accepted, then perhaps what he has been trying to work out for you has not succeeded, his uncle added doubtfully. His uncle stood looking down at the floor in the corridor. John felt a surge of anxiety. Come with me, his uncle said finally. John followed him as he walked down the corridor.

Outside in the tarmac car park, his uncle flagged down a dark blue police Land Rover, which was just entering the compound. "Have you got any urgent programme? he asked the driver as he stood next to the vehicle.

No sir, the driver replied. I was on my way to the transport office to find out what my programme is for today.

I have a small problem, his uncle said to the driver. I need just half an hour and we will be back.

His uncle jumped into the back seat of the car and John scrambled after him.

Take me to the army general headquarters in Mbuya, his uncle said to the driver.

The driver drove to the army headquarters. When the guards at the gate saw the blue Land Rover with police number plates they waved it through the gate. There was another gate inside and the driver had to get out of the vehicle and register the details of the vehicle in a book.

His uncle seemed to know his way around the army compound. He entered a grey concrete, storied building, with John keeping close behind him. His uncle walked confidently through the corridors, greeting several officers he met as he went along. Finally he said to John, Wait here, and he entered an office.

After about thirty minutes he stuck his head out of the door and said to John, You come in.

An officer was seated behind a small steel desk. He wore a dark green uniform with officer’s pips. He sat ramrod strait behind a steel desk. He looked at John with a stern expression. John had a glimpse of a slim dark-skinned figure in a crisp plain green uniform before he looked away and stared at the wall. The man exuded an air of authority and John imagined he was tall even though he was sitting down. His small black eyes seemed to pierce John as he stared at him, seemingly without blinking. He did not offer him a seat or greet him; John stood awkwardly before him.

This is the boy? he asked without taking his eyes off John.

Yes, his uncle replied.

You can leave him with me, the officer said to his uncle.

Thank you very much, his uncle said. He stepped forward and shook the officer’s hand.

Yes, the officer said. He was still seated as he spoke. Since this is one of our boys from home, we shall see what we can make of him.

Then turning to John, his uncle said to him; Work hard and be disciplined, and you will have a future in this place. Without another word he left the room.

The officer looked at John, his face expressionless. John clutched the plastic bag nervously. Then he drew himself to his full height. Though he was slim, he was a full six feet tall. He looked through the window behind the officer to avoid looking into his eyes. The officer continued to stare at him.

Why do you want to join the army? he asked John suddenly.

I have always wanted to be in the army, John stammered hurriedly.

You haven’t answered my question, I have asked you why? the officer said gruffly to him.

John was confused, he stared at the ground and said nothing.

Where is your pass slip, the soldier shot out the words at him.

It is here, John said. He reached into the plastic bag and brought out some crumpled papers. As he stepped forward he stumbled.

Address me as, ‘Sir’, the officer ordered. You are no longer in senior four, this is the army.

The officer looked at the pass slip thoughtfully for a while. Then he reached for the receiver of the telephone on his desk. He spoke a few words in Swahili. A few moments later, a short, stout man with the three bands of a sergeant came into the room. He saluted and then stood smartly at attention, gazing at an invisible spot in the air.

This boy has not come in with the rest of the group, but he is a recruit, the officer said in Swahili. Take him for the medical examination, then he can stay with the rest. I will handle the administrative issues.

Ndio, Afande! the sergeant was almost shouting.

Without further ado the sergeant turned to John, and ordered him in aloud voice to walk out of the room.

John felt a bit dazed by the speed of events. He walked out of the room and the sergeant followed him. The sergeant stepped into the corridor, shut the door to the office. Curtly he told John to follow him. As he walked down the corridor, John remembered that he hadn’t even had the time to thank the officer.

CHAPTER TWO.

Robert walked across the brown dusty ground. The courtyard outside the school hall was bare. It was bare from the feet of the children. They played there everyday. He could imagine them playing football and running around. They had worn away the grass. Finally he reached the grass that was left at the edge of the playground, next to the building. The steps at the entrance of the school building were before him. He looked at the cracks in the plaster. The school building was a dilapidated, single-storied brick building with the classrooms set out in a single row. Above it on the hill there was an assembly hall. Sometimes it was divided into classes by partitioning it with movable wooden boards during the week.

This Sunday, like every other, the school hall doubled as a church. The brethren came from all over the town to worship there.

Robert was among the first brethren to arrive. He entered the building before seven in the morning and found that some of the first brethren had already arrived. Praise the Lord! he greeted them warmly. "Amen they answered in unison. Then the first usher, Brother Stephen came in. They began to arrange the hall. It was like performing a familiar drill. They worked silently, putting all their effort into the work. They started by moving all the furniture to one side and sweeping the plain cement floor. Then they began to arrange the benches in orderly rows.

No sooner had they had finished, than the other brethren began to enter the hall.

Robert went to the washroom to clean his dusty hands. There was a full-length mirror there and he looked at his reflection without emotion. He checked his dark blue trousers and white shirt. Everything seemed to be all right. He was tall, about six feet. He had a high brow, with his hair brushed back from his forehead. When he was at school the children had nicknamed him ‘professor’. Below his brow were the eyes which always made his sister tease him. She told him they should have belonged to a woman: large, black, deep expressive eyes. A square nose above full lips completed his face. He turned away from the mirror and walked into the corridor and back to the hall.

He sat down and began to chat with the other brethren. It was almost eight and the musicians arrived and began to set up the instruments. They were late today, Robert thought to himself. After that the choir members began to arrive, one by one. The musicians hurriedly connected all the instruments to the sound mixer and the