It all started when I was ten. The dead came back when I was celebrating my tenth birthday with family in Chicago. I remember it like it was yesterday.
After a lot of begging kunye nomama [with my mother] she allowed me to wear my jumpsuit that was inspired my my culture. She had my kanina sibindi my hair to one side and add a thin red string into one of them. My twin brother Abelard was running around outside with the girls (there weren’t any boys his age) playing a game that needed a lot of giggling. They had been outside playing since we arrived from Washington D.C. and there hadn’t been a second of silence. I remember how umama nonina kunye nam [my mom aunt and i] were talking about the start of 5th grade when there was this silence and the shrillest scream I had ever heard. Umama had me stay in the house while yena kunye nomakhulukazi [her and my aunt] left to check on the younger kids. The next time i saw them they were laying in the backyard dead.
After that I was never the same. Utata kunye nodadewabo [my father and his sister] had returned from getting food, they had heard the news and decided to stock up on anything that could be preserved.
That was seven summers ago between now and then we’ve lost most of the younger kids including my brother; my dad left with his sister when my brother died. They left in the middle of the night while they his sister was supposed to be on watch.
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“Leal? How long have you been up, it’s sunrise.” It was Tommy, the groups resident ginger. He had large dark bags under his glassy eyes that made his sunken face seem even paler.
“Not long. I was up when Birdie was taking watch; I took her place.” I stretched, raising my arms up until my back arched then cracked then I stood and lifted my body onto the the balls of my feet. My stomach growled.
“Go take some of the others and try to find us all something to eat or wear. I’ll take watch.” Tommy yawned, rolled his neck then proceeded to pop all the knuckles in his hands.
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