The battle

By Michael Sixto

[…] and they saidmob-violence-against-blacks: “we come in peace”, but we all knew what it was going to happen. The confrontation was inevitable and we all predicted a long and bloody battle. The elders gathered and talked about us being outnumbered. People started to panic. We might as well die this same afternoon. The history of violence was in our legacy and somehow we were not prepared to let go. The order was given: Women and children will leave right away to find refuge in the mountains, in the nearby forest… together with the animals and the beasts they will try to endure; all men and boys older than 13 will stay to fight. The battle was on. We resisted for fourteen hours, but the odds of winning were never in our favor. Only a few of us survived. The death bodies were burned in a giant pyre, the smell was horrendous, but we were forced to watch. Then the unexpected happened. In big waves the women and children arrived. Out of their shelter their fury was no longer contained. Heads started to fall. The victorious were no longer in control. The surprise attack left them incapable of reacting. It was so fast that it lasted just a few minutes. And they were all death. For many years after in vain we tried to explain how, and we never could.

Many others arrived and many others said: “we come in peace”, but no longer we fought alone, ever again.

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